#he just wanted to beat elle up for some reason
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Reborn as Dan Phantom.
A fan of the show is reborn as Dan, the evil version of Danny just as he was created— but what no one knew was a fangirl had taken over the body and knew just what to do to help her family that would suffer what she just went through unless she did something to help. So— she creeped towards Clockwork, stole the time medallion, went to the timeline of the original, and immediately took over as big brother figure to help these poor children from suffering the future they would have to endure alone without adult supervision.
She— now he— didn’t care for gender, and just wanted to help and protect his new(ish) family from bad people. What he didn’t know was he was also thrown alongside the dc universe, which was an awesome discovery on his part later on.
Dan— or Dante— as he wished to be called, came to the group with sorrow in his heart as he explained what would happen in the future if Danny cheated on his test, not that it was anyone’s fault but fates. He explained how no one was at fault and it could all be avoided if he could help it.
He took over the ghost fights, and had a long talk with Clockwork about what would happen and his real purpose for being there.
His original timeline was obviously erased, and the only reason he survived was because of the medallion, so later he had to go through ghost magic and make himself his own person, gained a whole butt load of tattoos intertwined with ghost time magic and becomes the next king of the infinite realms after defeating the old guy easily after seeing him beat up his little bro.
Dante became king instead of Danny and took over all the overloaded paperwork along the way.
What he didn’t know, was that he would be summoned because of his status. He really thought the fan fictions were just exaggerating what would happen if he was ever given the position and power. Well, it was all true from what he read.
(I’m making this a Dante/King Phantom x Jason Todd/Red Hood).
He made an actual legal identity for himself with the help of Technus and Tucker, who became better pals after they set aside the fact that they attacked each other at some point or another.
Danny became a little brother to him, Jazz became his little sister who likes to treat him as if he were still Danny at times, and Danielle became his daughter.
Dante legally adopted Dani after they got his papers in order, and made her an identity as well. Elle was much younger than he remembered, but then again, she was deaged recently and just came back into contact with the group, who couldn’t take care of her because they were still children as well.
Vlad was still a little evil but leveled out after a huge diabolical involving Maddie, their so called mother.
Madeline Fenton had thought her son and daughter conspired with the ghosts and attacked them in their own home, Danny was greatly injured with multiple blast wounds and Jazz suffered a concussion while trying to push him out of the target zones.
Jack had football tackled Madeline and the rest was history.
Vlad had fallen out of love with her after seeing what she did to her own children, and instead got his head out of his butt and realized he was in love with Jack all along.
Jack divorced Madeline, took custody of his kids and decided they should move, all while Vlad made plans to take down GIW with Team Phantom.
Jack and Vlad met him and decided to emotionally adopt Dante as well in their messed up family.
Dante got a job as a mechanic and started his own business in Gotham. Very cliche from all the fanfics he read in his past life but he wanted to do something he knew and loved. He loved fixing things and his side job as the king of the infinite realms was basically being like a father to ghost children while scolding those who thought it was a good idea to attack innocent mortals.
He mainly spent his time raising Danielle. Giving her everything she deserves and making her happy now that his family was safe.
He was randomly summoned by the Justice League who were ready to full on attack him until they saw him reading to his child, not realizing he was summoned until someone cleared their throat. He was literally in his own little bubble, reading his two year old daughter a storybook while holding her against his chest as he floated above the ground, laid back in a relaxed position.
How it would go:
I looked up from the book after feeling a sudden shift in my surroundings, seeing multiple very brightly dressed people in front of me. I glared, shifting completely into my ghost king form while holding my daughter close to my chest. The storybook I was reading had disappeared into a pocket dimension for later, as I had to deal with this madness.
“Who in their right minds would summon the Ghost King? I literally burnt all those summoning books to ash.” I grumbled, and looked down to see Elle had slightly woken up at the sound of my deep voice.
“Dada?” She mumbled, rubbing her right eye as she sat up from my chest.
“It’s alright, Elle,” I rumbled, kissing her forehead as she plopped back down to take her nap again at my reassurance. “We can finish reading time later today.” I murmured to her as she went back to snoozing.
“What do you want, mortals?” I asked nonchalantly.
“Why does the ghost king have a child? And how in the hell are you not attacking us as the books state?” Zatanna asked, looking on at me in shock.
“You willingly want to be attacked after summoning me? That’s idiotic. “ I state, looking bored with their conversation. I still held Elle close, not answering their questions about my child just yet.
“No, a bloody idiot summoned you just as we defeated him as a last defense!” Constantine spat out, looking hysterical.
“Well, sorry to break the news, coward, but the last king was defeated by me after trying to take over the world, he is now locked away in forever sleep until we can find a way to get rid of him completely.” I explained to the coward looking at me in shock on the ground, bruises across his face and the usual weird looking villain costume on him.
I looked around for a quick second before stopping at the Batfam. Who were all here in a more relaxed formation seeing a child in my arms. My favorite fandom family in my last life.
I looked them over before spotting the Red Hood, my celebrity crush I had on him was no secret to my family, but they had no room to judge for themselves.
His aura admitted contaminated ectoplasm, and I knew I had to heal him sometime in the future.
“May I ask what your goals are? And who is this child?” Superman spoke up after a moment of digesting my information about my new position.
“I protect both living and the undead. I don’t have a world ending goal in mind, just to raise my daughter and give her the life she deserves.” I said, looking down at my daughter with a small smile that would be unnoticeable to most.
I looked back up to see the large group had softened at my words and I was about to ask a question about Red Hood, when my daughter suddenly decided this was taking too long and too much noise for her to take a nap.
“Dada! Where puppy?” She demanded answers, smacking the side of my face with her chubby hands, as I floated there, unmoving with an emotionless face towards the group.
“Cujo is with the twerp, remember? He will come by later for playtime.” I answered, which was slightly muffled as she squished my cheeks together and smiled at me happily.
“Dada! Fishh—“ she squealed out, looking happy with herself as she giggled at my face.
“You gremlin—“ I muttered out, tickling her sides as she squeaked, her flying out of my arms and turning into her young ghost form, looking ready to play.
“Playtime?” She asked, bouncing a little in the air, clapping her hands a little.
“Not yet, blob ghost. We need to head back home for snack time.” I explained, crossing my arms as she pouted, my arm muscles bulged a bit as I crossed them, and I still always forget the fact that I’m taller than most, alongside bigger. In my past life, I was a stick of a girl that had spaghetti arms, much different for sure.
Her pouting turned into the famous puppy eyes, and I turned back to the group to avoid them, only to see amused faces all around.
“Do you guys need anything before we head back? I’m sure you don’t want to deal with a Princess tantrum.” I rumbled out, looking on in disinterest as Elle decided to hug the side of my face like an octopus. She probably still had the puppy eyes on.
“You have an adorable daughter!” Princess Diana exclaimed soon after I was finished speaking. “How old is she?” She asked, looking at me curiously as I lowered myself to the ground, Elle now floating behind my head as she played with my low ponytail.
“She is now two years old.” I answered, swiftly nabbing Elle from behind me while reaching the back of my head. I lowered my arms to see I had her upside down now, her hanging like a sack of potatoes as she giggled.
“Dada!” Elle exclaimed, waving her arms around her in glee as she looked up at me.
“You don’t feel like a ghost completely… neither does she, what are you exactly?” Constantine asked, waving his hand at me in confusion.
“I don’t know if I can trust you with that information, Constantine.” I growled a little, glaring at him as he stepped forward while Elle hid behind me.
“Hey now! Let’s calm down, no one needs to start anything!” Nightwing stepped in front of the glaring Constantine who looked more and more like a bug the longer I looked at him.
“There isn’t anything to start, really. His soul is in shreds at the moment, not very powerful compared to my kind anyway.” I stated, crossing my arms once again as Elle peaked out from over my shoulder.
“Now, I need to speak with a Mr. Red Hood.” I said, looking on at the Batfam who tensed at my words.
“Why?” Batman growled out, stepping in front of the confused Red Hood.
“To heal him, of course.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I heard sounds of confusion from everyone else.
“His ectoplasm is very corrupted. He has the ghost flu, in which case makes my kind very moody and in need of pure ectoplasm to filter it and his emotions.” I briefly explained, unpinching my nose as I looked up from the ground. Willing my headache away for now.
“So his pit madness is basically the ghost flu?” Red Robin murmurs out hysterically, almost giggling in disbelief.
“Yes, I have heard of his haunt, Crime Alley, that being under his protection, I have never stepped foot on his property because I didn’t want to seem like a threat to a sick person who can’t control themselves completely with such a sickness.” I explained myself a bit nervously, rubbing the back of my neck a little with my right hand as Elle now sat on my left shoulder, swinging her legs.
“Wow, the ghost king is a dork…” I heard Spoiler mutter to Orphan, who nodded in agreement.
I huffed, crossing my arms and floated once again. “I can come back another time. I just wished to help a little. My doctor can probably fix him quicker than I, but I know what to do as I have studied under him for more than over a year now.” I informed them.
“So the pit madness can go away…?” Red Hood asked, stepping from around Batman to speak to me clearly.
“I’m unsure of what this “Pit Madness” is, but yes, I can heal you and make sure you properly get the help you need from your emotional roller coaster sickness.” I said, looking down at him as he took a few more steps to me, his family following behind him.
“Well, when can you fix me?” He asked, his voice modifier cutting all emotions from his voice, but I can clearly feel his emotions bursting from his almost formed core. It seems this sickness had stopped him from forming his core completely and left him sick for many years.
I could feel his hope, his rage and especially his bursts of want for some reason.
“I can fix you right now, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted privacy or not. It’s very…. Intimate. I can take you somewhere private if you would like?” I rumbled out, the burst of want came out more clearly, and I could tell Red Hood was clearly not expecting that word choice.
“Take me anytime—“ I could clearly hear his muttered out answer behind his helmet with my enhanced hearing, but I don’t know if I was supposed to hear that.
“Nope! Little Wing— you are not going with the ghost king—“ Nightwing suddenly yelled out, the whites of his mask bigger as Spoiler, Red Robin, and Signal burst into loud laughter. Batman sighed loudly in disappointment. Robin just “Tt” and sighed alongside his father, looking like a mini bat. Orphan just smiled at me.
“By intimate, I mean having a look at your soul, I will essentially have to take a closer look at that and cure you.” I fixed my words, making it seem as if I didn’t hear anything and I could feel a little disappointment coming from Red Hood but he nodded at my explanation.
#dc x dp#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc crossover#Dante Fenton#jason todd#jason todd x danny fenton#danny fenton x jason todd#batman#dc universe#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc fic#random thoughts#please don’t even take this seriously#I had an idea and threw it onto the internet because I’m currently sleep deprived and overworked
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going to a rave with the 141 boys
A/N: can u tell im excited for my upcoming rave bender? the next few weekends are gonna be intense and i’m here for it
cw: alcohol, casual drug use
ghost
- let’s be real, he would never actually agree to go to a rave with you. the closest you’ll ever get to taking him out to something similar is a bar, and it’s going to be the usual dingy one near base. he rarely even goes to that one unless it’s for celebrations or he wants to brood solo with some liquid luck by his side
- in the highly unlikely instance you do manage to bring him, he surprisingly fits in - visually at least
- his balaclava and simple compression shirt that he’s worn seems to be the vibe of everyone else, just very toned down. maybe he’s a casual raver, not too keen on dressing up like everyone else is what passer-by’s think
- not that anyone’s really paying attention, they’re all either tripping balls, high off their faces on MD or too busy feeling the music to care
- ghost is definitely feeling out of his element
- so many shirtless, sweaty men doing ‘ridiculous’ dances and women in skimpy outfits that flash all sorts of bright colours
- you’ve definitely dressed up for the occasion.
- ghost is absolutely floored when he sees what you’re wearing for the first time
- “what the fuck are you wearing”
- definitely acts more like a body guard than a rave buddy. everyone is so intoxicated. he’s on high alert the whole time, keeping a keen eye on you while you lose yourself to the sensations of the music rumbling deep in your bones and the feeling of bodies brushing up against you by the stage where the dj continues to do their thing
- you’re probably not even close to the stage, you’re further back where there’s less people and simon actually has the space to be able to breathe
- it doesn’t matter though, you’re still having a blast and dancing away to your hearts content
- ghost definitely can’t help watching the way you move your body, trying his best not to seem creepy, but you seem so in your element - it’s almost like watching you in the shooting range. you’re so lost in focus
- it’s hot as hell
- even if he thinks the way you’re dancing looks absolutely ridiculous, you’re confident and he finds it deeply attractive
- “don’t ever bring me to one of those again”
soap
- probably the most on board out of everyone to join
- you guys absolutely sat in your room together while you did your makeup and dolled yourself up
- “oi lad/lass, can ye put some o’ that on me?”
- soap gives you the biggest shit eating grin when you pull out a small baggie of pills to get the both of you through the night. you better pray there’s no upcoming standard military drug tests
- you are definitely going to be the one babysitting the entire time
- you almost lose him several times and the only reason you were able to find him again was because you heard loud scottish yelling
- arriving for the first time, soap can’t help but let out a low whistle. “fuckin’ ‘ell”
- tries to mimic the way you and the people around him are dancing but can’t for the life of him figure out how tf you’re all moving your bodies so quickly and fluently to the rapid beat of the music
- almost falls on his face trying the first time
- you’ve got him dressed up in the sluttiest, most ridiculous outfit that you think you’ll ever see him in. it’s definitely caught the attention of a few people around you
- god he’s so cocky when he realises he’s popular amongst the crowd with all the men and the ladies
- it may be boosting his ego but don’t worry. he’s only got his sights set on you
- speaking of sights set, soap can’t stop staring at you. you’re wearing the most revealing outfit ever seen and he swears then and there that he’s going to marry you
- he knew that he wanted to make you his, but tonight definitely sets that in stone
- the following weeks, you’re getting amused grins and eye rolls from your teammates (ghost is absolutely the one rolling his eyes)
- soap had secretly snagged a video of you dancing to your hearts content and made a point to make sure everyone bears witness to it
- when you find out, soap is sulking in the rec room with a bag of frozen peas pressed against his head, sulking like a kicked puppy
- oh well, at least he managed to hide one video of you after forcing him to delete them all
gaz
- it’s not his scene, but god he’s curious
- agrees to tag along with you, and boy is he glad he did
- his eyes are all over you the entire night. he just can’t help it when you’ve prettied yourself up so good
- “you look stunning, love”
- he’s content to just watch you truly be yourself, mingling and swapping bracelets with strangers and drunkenly stumbling around the place with a joyous laugh leaving your lips
- definitely would need occasional moments away from the crowds to allow him the space to gather his thoughts
- soap is probably there with the both of you tbh. it was originally a trio outing, but soap has run off to do his own thing
- don’t worry, gaz is here to watch over you and make sure you’re safe
- he takes it upon himself be be the sober one
- besides, he wants to remember the way you sway your hips to the beat and drag your fingers through your hair
- can’t help the slight pang of jealousy when he sees you dancing with another man, his eyes raking over your body and his hands reaching out to touch you
- “move along buddy”
- gaz is quick to pull you next to him, a steely glare directed at the man as he pulls you in to his side, your wide, surprised eyes looking up at gaz
- gaz isn’t usually one to be overprotective or jealous, but god is it hot when you bear witness to it for the first time
- absolutely chews soap out on the way home for stranding them amongst the hundreds of people at the rave
- you’re sleeping soundly - a small, drunken yet content smile on your face as your head rests on gaz’s shoulder in the cab home
- gaz can’t help but smile at you softly, hand reaching up to brush your hair out of your eyes as you rest
- he definitely stood out like a sore thumb at the rave, but it definitely won’t be the last one he’s attending. how could it be? you were such a delight to watch
- tonight will definitely be replaying in his mind for the following weeks to come
price
- you would lose your job so quickly if you ever brought price along to a rave
- occupation aside, unless you have the luck to win the lottery - price is probably also not joining you
- the poor bastard is not big on crowds, especially amongst so many young adults that are so intoxicated on more than just alcohol
- he’s not the oldest there, far from it, but his time serving in the military has made him feel detached from popular trends and the normalcy of civilian lifestyles
- you probably end up leaving early. the loud music gives him a headache, and god - do people actually listen to this?
- “don’t you dare take that shot”
- you definitely downed it after giving him an evil smirk
- the entire night is spent on the sidelines of the dance floor. there is no way that price is dealing with that many people pushing up against him while also dealing with the pounding in his head
- bitching and moaning aside, price is glad to see you letting lose and enjoying yourself instead of burying yourself in work and training
- you’re a hard worker, he knows you deserve this chance to cast aside the burdens of your occupation
- he’d never admit it, but he was glad to get off base (even if it was at an event he would never willingly go to on his own accord)
- he’s standing a few metres to the side, hands in his pockets and chuckling, shaking his head in amusement as you dance away in your own little world while he sips on a beer
- he’s discrete about it, but his eyes slowly travel over your body when your eyes are closed and you’re too lost to the beat of the rhythm - body coated in light layer of sweat, skin gleaming an assortment of colours as the lights bounce off your body
- he feels bad when he says he need to get the hell out of there, but his heart melts a little when you’re nothing but understanding
- he would never admit it, but it wasn’t the worst night of his life
- he got to see a new side of you that he never expected to see
- walks past the training room a few weeks later where you’re busy training. it’s late and everyone has retired for the night, but you’re gunning it on the treadmill, the same music the two of you listened to that night out playing from your bluetooth speaker
- he can’t help but think back to the way you moved your body so seamlessly to the harsh beat of each melody
- it’s ingrained permanently in his memories. it’s altered his brain completely
- he treasures it like an overprotective dragon does with its hoard of glittering gems and gold. what he saw that night was for him to see and him alone. the 141 boys have no idea what they’re missing out on
#cod headcanons#task force 141#141 headcanons#call of duty headcanons#tf 141#tf 141 x reader#141#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#captain price#john price#captain john price#john price headcanons#price x reader#price headcanons#captain price headcanons#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap cod#johnny mactavish#john mactavish x reader#soap headcanons#kyle gaz garrick#gaz cod#kyle gaz x reader#kyle garrick#gaz x reader#gaz garrick#gaz headcanons
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Drowning in danganronpa au thoughts 🤪
!!!!!!! YES YES YES YES ALWAYS DANGANRONPA AU DIWMSKAKSKDKR
This is the third time in this trial someone had accused you of murdering your friend. How could someone assume it was you? You’ve done nothing wrong the entirety of this messed up game, why or how could you do this? You know Kyoko is trying to get the truth of the mystery solved, but her accusations didn’t hurt any less.
“It wasn’t me, I swear!” You words are garbled as you cry in innocence. Did no one believe you? Was everyone going to get executed because the actual killer did such a good job at hiding the truth-
“You all can’t be this stupid. I expected this from Makoto and swim girl, but Kyoko? You really think she is capable of this kind of crime? Be reasonable.”
All eyes are on Byakuya as he speaks up in your defense. You eyes go wide as the others around you step back in awe. Byakuya has never stuck up for someone before so everyone was shocked. His calculating eyes avoid yours as you can’t help but stare openly at him.
“We’ve already deducted that whoever did this to Chihiro has to be the serial killer genocider syo, or at least a male. Is she a male? Sure, she was close to Chihiro but we’re missing someone else who was.”
After that confession, and his own of setting up the murder scene you were in stunned silence the whole time. You felt green eyes check in on you after your other close friend, Mondo, was found to be the culprit. Your heart lurched at the thought of losing two friends and you couldn’t help but cry at the conclusion of the trial.
As everyone left for their separate rooms, you were about to go to yours when someone taps on your shoulder. You’re shocked to see the heir in front of you as he motions for you to follow. You take his lead as he leads you to the library. He sits down in his usual spot and you sit across from him. Your eyes dart all around the room, noticing that someone may have followed the two of you. Suspicious…
“I hope you know,” he starts, “I didn’t do that in the name of justice.”
You look at him confused and you wait for him to keep talking. “The trial was not going the way I wanted, and everyone as being completely idiotic. Those buffoons wouldn’t have come to the right conclusion if they kept badgering you. I know you, for some reason, valued your friendship with the two boys. So if you need to talk about it, I’m here I guess.”
Your jaw drops slightly as you bring him into a surprise hug. Byakuya resists at first, but let’s you hug him. He tries to hide the growing butterflies in his stomach at the contact but his cheeks give him away. His heart is beating a mime a minute.
“Just,” he whispers in your ear, “don’t let Toko know. She has a weird obsession with me and I would hate to see her jealous because of you.”
Elle’s Wine Night!!
#elle’s musical moots#mar ⚛️#elle’s wine night#byakuya togami#danganronpa togami#byakuya togami x reader
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New CH episodes have made me officially decide to stop caring about the actual cast of the show </3 (/hj but i wish it was /j)
Anyway would you like to share some of your headcanons/scenarios for the side/minor characters ? It always makes my day 💚💖(/nf)
dude i feel you on these new episodes. wtf is going on over there. anyways, i’ll gladly dump this 10 ton stack of headcanons on you that i wrote down!!
Marie Antoinette:
loves hyperpop and 90s house music. she’s so slay (i have a playlist lol)
into european weirdo cinema like Gaspar Noe’s but she also likes chick flicks (her fave films are Climax (2018), Daisies (1966), and But I’m A Cheerleader (1999).)
frequents on lolita forums and goes to really shady places just to get cute lolita items.
has absolutely mastered voguing. super into ballroom culture.
has a pet borzoi (those groovy long-nosed dogs.) her name is “Vanille” and Marie loves her dearly.
wants to study fashion. she especially loves Vivienne Westwood and Moschino.
Jesús Cristo:
is a juggalo, and he indoctrinated Van Gogh into it as well.
says “it is what it is” at any minor inconvenience.
had a mental crisis at 13 as a product to the stress of living up to his clone father. similar to joan’s breakdown in s1e3 but 10x worse. he tries to ignore it when people bring it up.
designated driver on any road trip. for some reason.
into bands like The Cure whilst also bopping to Cypress Hill.
his fave video game is Parappa the Rapper.
accidentally punching holes/nails into his hand is a common occurrence. seems like it just keeps happening, so he’s learned to just roll with it. he’s also a pretty good nurse bc of it.
Marilyn Monroe:
is always down for the school play. BUT she usually just does script-writing and tech.
into conspiracy theories and video essays. (all gorgeous gorgeous girls love video essays).
is a dedicated Britney Spears and Gwen Stefani stan.
SO “COQUETTE LIZZY GRANT DIOR RETRO” in her fashion choice.
she also gives “elle woods from legally blonde” vibes. straight A student right here.
CERTIFIED GIRLBOSS <3
Thomas Edison:
is obsessed with American Psycho (2000). he has a poster in his room and he’s weirdly obsessed with Christian Bale (very 🍎🍉🍊 of him, but he always excuses it with “oh no, i just idolize and worship him. there’s absolutely nothing gay ab it.” he’s lying.)
also he’s SUCH a pretentious film bro. he has a whole library of stupid film facts shoved in the back of his mind (im totally not projecting).
he only listens to: 80s new-wave stuff like New Order, Oingo Boingo, Beastie Boys, & Talking Heads OR Lana del Rey. There is no in between.
he worked (past-tense bc that shit is GONE in 2023) at a blockbuster video store next to the mall and he liked being a total bitch to people about it (example: “you really rented this shit? this movie sucks, dude”)
after getting unfreezed, he was ECSTATIC over how easy pirating movies is nowadays.
Napoleon Bonaparte:
member of the speech/debate club and he is THE WORST TO BE PAIRED WITH. he’s foaming at the mouth the moment someone gives a rebuttal he didn’t think of. some meetings end in him trying to beat up someone.
into 80s rock like Metallica and Black Sabbath. he has an electric guitar. he also FUCKING LOVES ABBA AND JAMIROQUAI. like… too much.
unlawfully good at Just Dance. he absolutely fucks it up on the dance floor.
adores fantasy films like Conan (1982) and The Never-Ending Story(1984). he’s so lame/ pos.
he bakes really well. that’s all he’s got going for him.
he either found his napoleonic military uniform at party city or at a thrift store with Marie Antoinette; his story changes depending on who he’s talking to.
he cut his own hair when he was 14. the following conversation after he did so was with caesar, and it was just the haircut scene from fleabag . he then continued to keep his stupid haircut to what it is now.
is a hopeless romantic. he can make up entire love poems & sonnets in his head about a girl he’s crushing on, but literally cannot talk to people without sounding like a douchebag unless he’s super comfortable w/ them.
Ivan the Terrible:
is an avid deftones, sewerslvt, & duster listener (i, unfortunately, ALSO have a playlist.)
spends his nights scrolling on 4chan and arguing w/ people. him & topher have accidentally argued w/ each other AT LEAST 5 times.
literally refuses to take off his ushanka in any weather. it doesn’t matter to him if it’s 90 degrees, that thing is staying ON.
kins Travis Bickle and Shinji Ikari. i mean, just look at this dude and how he presents himself. average NGE & Taxi Driver enjoyer/ hj.
fave video games are Postal 2 and osu!. he plays osu! phenomenally, to the point where it’s impressive. (pls put that energy into a job or something).
and yea that’s all the energy i have to write this down :]
#yeah i made ALL OF THIS UP LOL#AND THIS IS JUST A GLIMPSE INTO THE MINI SIDE-UNIVERSE I HAVE#but thx for asking!!!#clone high#clone high marie antoinette#clone high jesus#clone high jesus cristo#clone high marilyn monroe#clone high thomas edison#clone high napoleon#clone high ivan the terrible#clone high season 2#ch#clone high reboot#clone high headcanons#so many tags
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Can I request "I can't stop thinking about you" or "last night was incredible" for Peter? Your Peter content always makes my morning/afternoon/evening/night.
aaaaaa you're so kind ;w; thank you so much!
I love my short king <3
things that you want to hear.
This is the fifth time this week you’ve been back to the circus.
You can’t help yourself, because you feel like you’ve begun to fall for one of the trapeze artists. He occupies your every other thought even when there are other things you should be thinking about.
He’s the most fascinating person you’ve come across since you can’t remember when. This short man with youthful features, who is undoubtedly an adult. You’ve never seen a child carry themself the way he does. He’s got short blonde hair, slate-blue eyes, and something about him has just made you weak.
The rest of the troupe must know about your infatuation. Several of them have made comments about seeing you, particularly the ringleader who seems to wonder what in the world their show has to offer ‘someone like you’. (One of the nobility, you’re sure he means. It stuns people when one of London’s aristocracy is overly and genuinely interested in affairs like this commoners’ circus.)
A woman of the same stature as the object of your affections introduced herself and the man, who’s apparently her brother… except you haven’t actually spoken to him yet. She just gave you their names before suggesting, several times, that you might want to talk to him.
Today, at least, you’re trying. You’ve come closer than before, lingering by where he’s perched atop a crate, eating half an apple. It looks like his eyes are unfocused, drifting off wherever, and suddenly ― as if sensing that you’re watching him ― he snaps his gaze over to you.
His eyes are withering. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, unless he’s hoping his eyes turn to daggers and strike you dead. At last, he scoffs. “The ‘ell are y’ gawkin’ at? I ain’t some freak show. Ain’t y’ been ‘ere enough times that a li’l man don’t shock y’ no more?”
… Oh, dear. He’s noticed that you’ve been to the circus a lot. Not just a lot, every night this week that they’ve put on a show. And two afternoons.
You suppose, in hindsight, that you could have been a bit more subtle. Are you staring at him?? Maybe. But not for the reason he thinks.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to gawk. And you’re not shocking, for the record.” You shift around before taking a step closer. “It’s… PETER, right? I’m (Name).”
“Oh, that right? (Name)?” He spits a couple of apple seeds into the grass. “I don’t care. Y’ been talkin’ t’ Wendy, ‘ave y’? Wot’re y’ lingerin’ round ‘ere f’r? Y’ keep comin’ t’ shows. Even people wot like our acts ain’t that faithful. Wot’s y’r problem?”
Part of you wonders if you should just come out and say it. That’s like tearing a bandage off a painful wound, right? Get it over with? At least if you do that, he can’t accuse you of beating around the bush.
So you take a deep breath. “I… I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s my problem. I… well… not ― not that I’d call it a problem, per se, but…” That’s what he’s asking, isn’t it? Why you keep coming to shows? You might as well be honest.
Of course, that does get his attention. He clearly wasn’t expecting that response, and perks up with eyes wide toward you. After a moment of surprise, his expression turns angry. Or, at least, incredibly irritated. “Oi, ‘avin’ a go at me? Ain’t funny. Wendy put y’ up t’ playin’ some joke on me, ‘uh?”
“W… what??” He thinks you telling him that you’re attracted to him is his sister playing a trick on him? You’re almost insulted that he thinks you’d let yourself be used like that. “No, she has nothing to do with… well, perhaps, she kept encouraging me to talk to you, but… but I think that’s only because she knew I had feelings for you.”
He rolls his eyes, and takes another bite from his apple half. More seeds find their way into the grass. He’s so… crude. “Y’ don’t fuckin’ know me, ‘ow can y’ ‘ave feelin’s f’r me? Go find a wood t’ get lost in.”
You frown, then step closer. “I’m being honest with you. It’s not something I can explain, but… I find you very handsome, and I… I came over today to finally ask if you’d like to go with me.”
“Go with y’? Go where with y’?”
“I mean… out? I don’t know where exactly… dinner, or a play, or dancing, or just a stroll…” You shrug. “We can do whatever you’d like.”
This time when he spits out another couple of seeds, he sputters, sounding almost like he’s choking. To wit, after spitting them out, he coughs a few times. “Wot, like a… wot d’they call it… courtin’ me?! Pfff… didn’t know Wendy would ask y’ t’ go this far. ‘M almost sorry f’r y’.”
Alright, you’re starting to get a little disheartened. “If you don’t want to go with me, you can just say so. I’ve got feelings; you could let me down gently.”
“The devil y’ goin’ on about?” With the final bite of his apple taken, he tosses the core down onto the ground and looks back at you. Then, he blinks a few times. “… Ah, fuck. Tell me this is a joke.”
“It’s not,” you mumble, rubbing self-consciously at your arm. “I don’t know why you assumed that, but it’s not. Genuinely, I can’t get you out of my head, and I’d like to get to know you better. Wendy was only talking to me because she noticed I was paying attention to you.”
He raises his hands, spread out as if to stop you from talking. “Wait, wait. So, y’re tellin’ me… y’ actually wanna be seen out in public with me?”
“That’s… strangely specific. But, yes, that’s what courting you would mean. Unless you wouldn’t be comfortable with that.” You shrug. “You’re allowed to say no to me, but I do like you. Sincerely. No tricks. I find you handsome and interesting.”
Peter squints at you, head tilted, like he’s searching for any little sign of a lie. After a long moment, he blows a breath out his nose, and pushes himself off the crate he’s been sitting on. It’s almost like he thinks if he reminds you how much shorter he is than you, you’ll reconsider. “Alright, (Name). Come back after t’morrow night’s show, ‘n’ we’ll take a walk ‘r somethin’.”
With that, he turns to walk off. “Don’t worry, y’ll ‘ave enough’a me after that!”
Somehow, you don’t think you will. Just this short interaction has left you wanting more.
How much more, you wonder, will you want after spending an evening with him?
#onehellofashadynerd#Black Butler#Kuroshitsuji#Peter#reader insert#romantic#fluff#first meeting#drama#Peter causin the drama all by his damn self XD#we love him tho#one hell of a queue
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I want thank ALL of the lovely people for their kind birthday wishes for me today on my 60th birthday.
I am the luckiest man in the world. I have a wonderful partner in life, my beautiful wife Patricia and three lovely daughters; Elle, Miranda and Madeline.
Today, I am reminded of what Dr. M Scott Peck told me over 30 years ago: At 40, you feel like you can conquer the world and there’s a sense that nothing can stop you.
But at 60 you realize the very real fragility of life and temporariness of it all. A humbling knowledge that there is indeed a time limit for all things and that God’s design though perfect, is precious far beyond its brevity.
Today, I am also reminded of the Hindu story that my friend Bill from Lowell Arkansas told me about a man at his funeral. Looking at the man, “Would this man lying here ask for more riches and Gold from the world? Would this man ask to be more famous and well regarded by others? Would he ask to be taller or look more handsome? No. The only thing this man lying here today would ask for was much simpler…more time.”
If you are reading this now, then you too have time! Use it wisely, use it unwisely too! But USE it. Be IN it. Be aware that you are part of ALL of it and that the separateness you sometimes feel is an illusion. Just as your heart beats without being told, you are as integral to the Sun that fires and the planets that circle it as your heart is a part of you.
For the atheists, God loves you too. The mistake you make is to think the universe is a stupid thing that just bumps into things and expands ignorantly and without reason or intelligence. And that somehow we human beings, with our intelligence is just some kind of ‘freak’ universal accident. To you I say this, if there is such a thing as kindness, empathy, compassion and love…it is because you found it in other people.
And as my dear friend Norm Macdonald once said, “We are part of this universe, indeed a mere fraction of it, so if we have kindness and love, how much more the universe itself.” For if we are capable of love, it is because it is endemic to the universe itself.
To quote Alan Watts, “For we didn’t come ‘in’ to the world, we came ‘out’ of it. We are the universe evolving to the point of consciousness, so that the universe, us, can experience existence and life in all it’s wonder and beauty and glorious exuberance.”
Lastly, as I am a new convert to Catholicism, I offer my apology for my lack of Christ’s forgiveness to my fellow man. I was so angry at the people who shut down schools and indeed the world and who coerced others to do things against their will which hurt many people deeply. I offer my unconditional forgiveness and amnesty.
For how can I stay mad at the famous singer who would not let others in to his Broadway show unless they had an experiential jab. I will never forget how kind he was to me and my friends when he was the musical guest on SNL.
How can I continue to hold a grudge against the actor who shamed people like me but has been such a great example for other actors to never give up and keep fighting for their dreams.
How can I still be mad at the lovely actress that said she could no longer be friends with people like me who didn’t ‘get’ it, knowing how incredibly kind she is with every child she meets.
I am humbled by the example of my mother Pilar and how she was able to forgive the WW2 occupiers of her Philippines who killed both her brothers.
At last it is forgiveness itself that is the gift that we give ourselves because it frees us as The Christ intends for all of us to be free. For His gift of ultimate and unlimited forgiveness is indeed the gift for all humanity.
May God bless you and your families now and forever.
With all my “You can do it” love, Robbie Schneider
(X - twitter post Oct. 31, 2023)
#Rob Schneider#SNL alumnus#Comedian#Celebrity#Christian#Lord Jesus Christ#Catholic convert#Forgiveness#Dr. M. Scott Peck#Norm Macdonald#Twitter post#Freedom
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BIG update this time for Xillia 2 Sister Addition, we've had several long sessions I wasn't writing down but I'll try to share what I can remember 😅
My sister pointed out the symbolism in the Frere apartment naming and I had a :o moment because I keep forgetting that French is a language 😅
Gaius joined in the second half of the chapter and I've been playing as him a bit, he's fun but a little tricky. It's amusing that his partner skill is to defend you, imagine having the king of Rieze Maxia as your bodyguard 😅
We explored the Mon Highlands and those icy caves nearby and for some reason they're chock full of French toast??
And also Hazardous Liquid. Sis: "That's the secret ingredient to their French toast."
We got the knock off Bunnykins in Elize's chapter and both agreed it seems like the kind of thing a shady merchant like Alvin would sell 😂
There's a bit of a gap here because I actually let my sister play without me while I was... otherwise occupied (*coughplayingpersona 4cough*) so I missed another one of Alvin's chapters (Sis: "Him and Yurgen broke up"), and she also started chapter 9:
Me: "So what'd I miss?" Sis: "We're in the square dimension and there's a voice." Took me a couple second to process that one 😂 but I actually like this chapter quite a bit, the stuff with the Arc is fascinating even though it never gets mentioned again 😅
The battle music changed to be Milla's and it's a bop, probably a nod to Fractured Milla before she goes away 😔
A cat found us shamisens while we were in the Ark and my sister equipped them to the whole party. Me: "The rest of the party is going to wonder what the heck happened in this fractured dimension that made us form a band 😂"
The music in the Ark is so soothing, and it has those fun statues that play music from other Tales games so I got to flex my knowledge there a bit 😌
The sentient guardian Waymarker thing wants to turn everyone into digital data. I spent the whole battle trying to come up with a pun based on file types and the name "Elle" but all I came up with was "HTM-Elle," someone let me know if you have a better one 😅
I've been sprinkling in some reminders of the overall lore, like the fact that Julius took Ludger's pocket watch for a while and that Elle's father apparently had one and that the ability to travel between dimensions is a Kresnik thing. She speculated if maybe Ludger was Elle's dad in another dimension... 🤫
My sister loves to play dress up every half hour, here's a screenshot of Ludger so you can know my pain:
Whenever I play Milla, Jude just stands there and shouts "I've got your back!" without doing anything. When I switched to Jude though, Milla jumped right in front of him while I was trying to hit an enemy. Sis: "See, you've got her back, literally!"
I didnt realize there was a skill that pets Milla cast in midair but that's incredibly fun to abuse, I feel like Muzet casting death spells from above 😂
We keep laughing at how Fractured Milla shouts "HEY!" every time she levels up. Sis: "She sounds like she's trying to keep kids off her lawn."
Since I'm not playing Ludger I've been able to enjoy some link artes I never saw, including one where Rowen and Gaius ride a paper airplane together 😂
And since my sister IS playing Ludger I get to get startled everytime she uses Hammer Toss in my vicinity. Me: "Would you stop throwing malatov cocktails around?!"
Both of us were wondering what the others see whenever Ludger uses the Chromatus. It seems like he's kinda freezing time, so he and the enemy would suddenly appear somewhere else whenever time resumes, or just be gone if he beat them all. Imagine blinking and a giant monster is suddenly dead 😅
I forgot how so much important lore is shoved into confusing and not fully explained side quests, like everything with Marvin and Claudia 😓 I wasn't sure how to explain all that to my sister without spoilers but at some point I'll try to fill her in based on my own fuzzy knowledge
Speaking of which theres a sidequest with a guy named Aaron who apparently has beef with Ludger and was all "Don't expect me to forgive you for this," and we were all "??? Who are you again???"
After seeing the skit where Nova complains about Vera's shyness, my sister wanted to ship her with Ludger simply to watch them both squirm in silence 😂
That's the gist of the most recent stuff, though I'm probably forgetting some things. We're in Fenmont currently starting Muzet's chapter but after that is the final waymarker, that's gonna be fun to see 😏
Masterpost link here
#dolphin plays x2#tales of xillia 2#sorry if these are weirdly worded or boring it's hard to convey our jokes and reactions well through text format#my sister really enjoys it though mostly for collecting shiny things and paying back the debt#ive told her before the reward for paying it all of sucks real bad but she wants to do it anyway#that's fine but im leaving the room when the teepo vore comes on. the tethering skit was bad enough 😖
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you got questions oc meme!
For the whole axe and cleaver gang: 6, 19, 35, 46, 47, 50 :)
YES thank youuu!!!
6. if they were badly injured and couldnt go to a hospital, who would they go to?
OOH okay so for goliath and euan, this is actually super easy bc it would be elle. elle first and foremost. really, none of their group has much of a choice BUT elle, but. but but.
elle is who euan took goliath to whenever he was bleeding. when goliath's eye was taken, it was elle who patched him up. elle may seem a bit strange, but they're who each would turn to in a time of crisis. and when it comes time for elle to call for help, they have 4 people who will come to their aid.
19. how easy is it to become their friend?
for agnes and angus, it's extremely easy; both are friendly, outgoing people. euan takes some practice and like. the emotional equivalent of cats sniffing each other thru a door.
elle is friendly w everyone, but being their friend is a completely different thing, and that's a lot harder to do-- gotta earn their and 12 identities' trust to do that. goliath is just shut off from everyone, so you're not going to actually be his friend until you break thru level 14 of his trauma and even then he's not going to be super friendly w you, he just wont. try to beat you within an inch of your life when you close the door too hard.
odelia is very friendly. do not get close to her.
35. do they believe in fate, or do they believe they're in charge of their own destiny?
goliath and elle have no opinion on this matter, for several reasons. agnes is very romantic and believes in fate, angus and euan believe in taking charge of your own destiny (for different reasons, but they came to the same conclusion). odelia believes in fate and it enables and empowers her decisions. this is not a good thing.
46. would they lie to get out of trouble?
yes: goliath, elle
no: angus, euan, agnes
they lie anyway: odelia
47. would they lie to get someone else out of trouble? even if they had to take their place?
yes: goliath, elle
no: angus
they'd try to lie but they're terrible liars: agnes, euan
odelia, who lies 41546312316 times a day, regardless of circumstance, has no place in this particular poll
50. What's your favorite thing about them?
Agnes: i love that she's so romantic, esp abt her studies. she has a certain type of love for theology that makes me giddy to think abt, and her love for her studies seeps into the rest of her personality
Elle: they're very. hm. relatable, in a way. esp when we consider that they have a heavy mask, where they spend a lot of time acting as a jovial and lovely person, and when the sign turns to 'closed' they shrink in on themself and become fairly morose, a little too in their head abt everything that happens to them. but still they persist, which i find admirable
Goliath: goliath gives me an outlet for the chaotic. being a retired gladiator, there's a certain energy he has that i love to dive into every now and again just to feel esxcited abt what im doing again. he makes me absolutely thrilled to work on art
Angus: he's a big teddy bear! i like playing w him and euan when i want smth soft and sweet. he has a very steady and gentle attitude that balances everything out, i love it
Euan: i like the sainthood feel i gave euan. i dont draw it much, but i very much consider him the madonna of the group; he's a sort of weeping saint type personality. if you asked me what he reminds me off, i'd say cotton drying on the line, royal blue velvet, and red tears
Odelia: oh i always knew i'd have a cult leader oc (elle was originally constructed for this purpose, but as you can see: they're not one). i just didnt realize i'd make her so gruesome and sociopathic, but i think it's a good stretch for me to try to write an "evil" character and not try to justify or redeem them. i tend to do that but i've been enjoying having an oc who just does fucked up shit bc that's what makes sense in her brain and bc she Wants to
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FebruarOC Day 5: Elias
Eli sighed and sat back from his desk, checking his phone. Technically he could probably get away with heading over to James’s house and moping around the kitchen until his uncle took pity on him and fed him. But it was still early, and James could just as easily tell him to wait till dinner. Plus, he would rather get this assignment done before leaving for dinner… Raiding the kitchen for a snack it was.
Eli scrolled through his phone as he left his room, taking advantage of his little homework break to check his social media. Habit had him side-stepping the small figure heading down the hall towards him, and he caught sight of brown hair, not his sister’s black. “Hey Elle.”
Eli mentally ran through the cupboards, debating what sounded like a good snack. His parents and Brooke were out, meaning he wouldn’t have to deal with food thieves—Wait a second.
Eli turned around and backtracked to Brooke’s room. In the few moments it had taken for him to register her presence, Elle had made herself perfectly at home in Brooke’s bed.
“What are you doing here?” Eli asked.
“What does it look like?” Elle signed back.
Eli frowned. It wasn’t that this was a rare occurrence; Elle and Brooke had sleepovers all the damn time. But Eli couldn’t remember Elle ever coming over by herself, and she lived far enough away that she couldn’t just walk the distance.
“Do your dads know you’re here?”
Elle didn’t respond, but Eli figured the guilty way she burrowed deeper into the nest of blankets was answer enough.
He sighed and pulled out his phone to text his uncles. Hey, if you’re looking for Elle, she’s here.
OH THANK FUCK was James’s near-immediate reply. Do you mind bringing her home for dinner?
Can I get some brownies out of it?
Sure
np
Message sent and the promise of treats secured, Eli pocketed his phone. “Anyways, as I’m sure you know, Brooke is at soccer practice right now. You planning on just sitting here till she gets back?”
Elle shrugged.
“And you do realize Mom and Dad are probably gonna bring her over to your house for dinner?”
Another shrug.
Eli sighed, then crossed the room to sit at the edge of Brooke’s bed. “Alright, out with it. Why are you really here?”
Elle huffed, refusing to look at Eli. Her hands wavered for a moment, then she signed, “Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did,” Eli deadpanned, then as Elle shrunk back into the blankets, he added, “Go ahead.”
“Do you think I’m weird?”
If it were Brooke asking, or even Katie, Eli would have immediately shot off some quip about not understanding “you weird kids.” But Elle had immediately wrapped her arms around her legs after finishing her question, and she looked too small and too scared for Eli to feel anything but uncomfortable making that kind of joke.
“Nah,” he finally said. “No more than Brooke, anyhow. Or anybody else in this family.”
Elle didn’t seem relieved by his answer. She uncurled slightly, hesitated, then signed, “Even though I don’t talk?”
Eli snorted. “You don’t wanna talk, that’s fine. There’s enough loudmouths around to make up for it.” He frowned. “What’s making you ask this?”
Elle didn’t answer, once again silencing herself by wrapping her arms around her legs. But before Eli could figure out something else to say, or if he even truly wanted to open this can of worms, Elle spoke.
“Kids at school,” she whispered. “Think it's weird I don’t wanna talk.”
For a few moments, Eli wondered just how frowned upon it would be for him to go beat up a bunch of fourth-graders. Unfortunately, he reasoned, a bunch of snot-nosed kids probably weren’t worth the risk of juvie.
“Listen,” he said, resolving that if he couldn’t solve the problem for Elle he could at least try and make her feel better. “People are stupid, so fuck ‘em and their opinions. Don’t repeat that in front of your dads,” he added, belatedly realizing he probably shouldn’t be teaching his 9-year-old cousin swear words.
That at least pulled something like a smile from Elle.
“Plus, Uncle Jay stops talking and signs at least half as much as you do, so who are you gonna believe? A bunch of dumb kids, or your cool dad?”
“You think he’s cool?” Elle asked, signing once again.
“Don’t tell him I said that, he’ll never let me live it down,” Eli said conspiratorially.
Elle stifled a giggle against the back of her hand.
“Atta girl.” Eli ruffled her hair. “Now, how’s about I take you home and we see how many baked goods we can sweet talk your dad into making us, hm?”
“He won’t before dinner,” Elle said, scrunching up her face.
“Have a little faith, hm?” Eli winked, then pushed himself to his feet.
#writing#in which i write#snippets#band au#band au: from the ashes#februaroc#februaroc 2023#fuck it! snippets don't get nice endings lol
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Mobile Suit GUNDAM: ZZ (It was fine)
Finally got around to watching this after Zeta, and it started fun and ended controversial.
Pros:
Music is good
Some of the female characters are badass (Emary is a joke), namely Roux, Chara & Haman kick serious ass
Haman Karn existing (That is all)
Kamille Bidan
The heavy use of Newtype powers
Lighthearted tone
It’s not as dark as Zeta
Judau is a confident, well spoken main character who knows what he wants. High energy.
The tragedy of the Ple clones is gripping, wish it got more attention
The interchangeability of the pilots (Everyone used each others Mobile Suits ALOT, very nice)
Fa & Kamille are still the best Zeta pairing
Fa gets active in what’s going on, and has grown up considerably maturity wise. (Proud)
It’s retro
Cons:
It’s not as dark as Zeta
The Argama kids (excluding. Leina, Qum, and Shinta) are fucking annoying
Mashymre’s conclusion was underwhelming
Mashymre basically disappears for a good chunk of the show for no reason, then just shows up in the end
Chara & Haman are highkey pedophiles (Judau is 15, they’re both over 20)
Not enough adult supervision on the Argama to check those kids
Bright got mad soft (Need more slaps)
Judau had way too much freedom to mouth off
Beecha & Mondo were a recurring problem
The character arcs are borderline contrived because the teenagers rarely suffer any real consequence for their dumbass decisions compared to Kamille who straight up got old school Military “correction” Thus the ZZ kids changes and character developments come toward the very end, instead of a natural progression throughout via consequence.
Things just happen to them, and they react. (Ex. Elle likes to hit people when upset, Beecha FINALLY slaps her back, shocking her, but literally at the end of the show. Defeating the potential of her maturing to keeping her hands to herself through the show)
The worst offenders are the kids not having enough adult supervision or consequence for their mistakes. Judau deploys without authorization so many times, he gained a reputation for it, then Mondo did it, then Roux did it; No real consequence, just sit in the brig, come out and do it again whenever you’re in a bad mood.
Shinn Asuka energy, but at least he saved a girls life.
These kids just do whatever the fuck they want, and it’s insufferable.
And so is the “Adults bad, because their War kills the innocence of children”;
Which is a sound message yet the narrative conflates that with: Let’s write most of the Adults as conniving scumbags that ruin everything or just don’t understand their folly.
And reprimand for the kids never happens, and the kids learning from it never happens because Adults just don’t get it and we kids are the real victims here. Literally “Kids Rule” the Anime, but with Gundams. The message gets caught up in the lackluster character beats.
In contrast to After War X Gundam EP12:
Garrod left with Gundam X unauthorized for a childish reason, to get souvenirs.
Jamil gets hurt trying to save him from a situation he got caught up in, and Sara slaps him for fucking up. He leaves again with X because he felt like everyone was against him, comes back, saves the Freeden ship. Instead of bygones, Jamil tells Garrod the conditions of his refuge on his ship:
ZZ, eat your heart out.
Unless he’s authorized, he’s not taking the X.EP12, he could’ve done the same shit again after Tiffa is taken, but he stops in his tracks because he’s learned to control his impulses.Garrod leaves to spy on the enemy, Jamil checks him and says “If you’re leaving, go alone”, aka Do NOT take the X.
What does Garrod do? He leaves the X and takes a jeep. If this were ZZ, the brat woulda took the X
And as Jamil said himself:
He would not have learned to know his limits, if it weren’t for correction and reprimand. Development after consequence is how an Arc works.
Beecha & Mondo literally defected to Neo Zeon because they didn’t “like” the Argama, then defected back over to the Argama because the Zeeks were bullying them lol.
Pathetic.
And then they get access to Gundams, the bridge, and one of them Captains the new ship, somehow.
Can’t make this shit up. They commit a War crime, fit for death or a court martial (Roux even says this) and one of them ends up in Command the new goddamn ship.
NOT Roux? Who was an already established La Vien Rose crew member, older, is good at giving Commands.
No SHE doesn’t command the ship, BEECHA does, the defector. Get tf outta here, her rump shoulda been in that Captains seat and he shoulda been kicked off the ship with Mondo.
Then after all this, to show their development or that they learned their lesson. Beecha literally trips Judau by the foot during a combat situation, and steals ZZ because he was jealous of people praising Judau’s skills; And almost gets killed because of course. Never really punished.
Mondo steals the Hyaku Shiki in a hostage situation because Torres rightfully points out how spoiled he is despite his fuck ups. Thus the boy’s reaction is get emotional and do exactly what the man is criticizing, but this time the situations works itself out. And people praise Mondo because by some miracle no one was killed, which is beside the fucking point. Being LUCKY THIS TIME doesn’t make him right, and Torres apologizes when he shouldn’t have.
BULLSHIT. And no, this show was not written by millennials, but it damn near prophesized the problem this society has: “Everyone’s a winner” energy. Jfc, i felt like these kids were U.A. dropouts, they’re so entitled.
Both situations are after they’re accepted back on the Argama, somehow. No change, no evolution. Just the same shit for 30 something episodes, until they decide to nut up after the 45 episode mark because “war” & FINALE time, i guess.
No organic change, they just got there because somebody died i guess.
Point being. The Main issue i have with ZZ in 47 episodes, AWX did perfectly. In under 12 episodes. Almost as if the writers saw the issues in ZZ and fixed them in the 96′ After War X Gundam series.
Best thing about ZZ is Haman, no cap
ZZ Gundam, Fun ride, serious at times, good themes, but held back because it’s too juvenile.
Best parts were when Kamille and Haman were the plot point focus of the episodes, when things finally got serious, both times Leina reunited with Judau, and when the Kids were working together not being dick heads..
Solid 5/10 not bad nor above average, Gundam SEED Destiny is technically worse to an extent in terms of writing but i would rather watch that than ZZ again. Those teenagers are too annoying.
A shorter episode format (25-30) would’ve helped things be more focused, condensed, along with fixing those writing hiccups to make the characters less frustrating.
Too many episodes with plenty of worldbuilding and annoying main characters.
Either should’ve been an OVA or Hamans anime in the first place.
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E. GREENAWAY | WILLIAM LEE [ONE-SHOT]
character(s): elle greenaway, mentioned william lee, mentioned spencer reid
tags: episode: s0205 aftermath (criminal minds), character study, this is what rewatching criminal minds does to me, ptsd, implied past rape
summary: too bad she was a better killer than she was a profiler.
elle remembers a gunshot.
she'd gone in blindly, thinking of RULES and fingers and blood. there was no way what had happened could've been prevented, she knew this as well as any fact. she was already unraveling - it had only been a matter of time.
i want you to think about this job, what you've been through, what you're capable of, hotch had said.
he had had no idea just what, exactly, that implied.
she didn't regret it, when she'd pulled the trigger. didn't regret it later, didn't regret the aftermath.
the only thing she could truly say she regretted was not saying goodbye to spencer. she thought he understood, in a way. there was a certain sort of sadness, with him, and she thought she was the same way. like they could both turn into the people they hunt, given time.
too bad she was a better killer than she was a profiler.
there was always a recurring dream. it got really bad about a week after the accident, and then went away for a while, just to come back, in intervals.
an empty corridor where a little girl sits. she's playing jack, by herself, and all the lights are off and the only reason elle can see is because of a red light that sits on the roof, pulsing to the beat of her heart. RULES is written on the wall, blood still dripping.
the little girl looks up and tilts her head to the side, and then, all of a sudden, she isn't a little girl in anymore; she's a monster. she's twice the size she was and her hands are covered in blood and her mishappen legs are bruised and cut. her arms are bent unnaturally and when looks at her, she snarls.
if elle cared, she'd say there was a metaphor in all that. like her subconscious was trying to tell her something, like naybe she was girl turned monster. of she cared.
too bad she doesn't.
there are things nobody knows about her. seeing her mother's dead, crushed body, under the weight of three cars, for example, or seeing her father's closed eyes in a coffin through blurry vision, imagining them open, lifeless and dead. going to college in her home state, going to a party thinking it'd be good for her to get out and socialize.
some cases hit close to home, everyone who's every worked in the bau knows that, but william lee had dug up memories she'd left behind long ago, reminded her of more than just a gunshot and blood.
not everybody can handle this job.
maybe, if elle had been better. if she'd been good. if she hadn't seen too much at a young age and clutched it so close to her chest, it hurt. if william lee had never been there to hand her a shovel and urge her to dig her own grave.
ironic.
when elle left, she never intended to come back, even if she could. maybe she'll travel the world, if she survives. maybe she'll have a mundane life where she meets a man she doesn't truly love or a woman who only fulfills the serial aspect in her life. maybe she'll learn to love and to grow and to make herself better.
but she probably won't survive.
she wonders if anyone will remember her. obviously, the agents who live will - another thing she wonders is how many of them will still be there by the end. she's willing to be two, at most; spencer and someone, she's sure. - maybe they'll even tell her story, but. she wants more than that, if she's being honest.
she just doesn't know what more implies.
#criminal minds#elle greenaway#spencer reid#william lee#criminal minds: writing#derek morgan#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#jason gideon#david rossi#aaron hotch hotchner#jennifer jareau
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Y/N and Harry hate each other, until they don’t.
29K+
Warnings: Asshole Harry, A LOT of swearing (I’m sorry,) mentions of anxiety, a questionable game of drink or truth & smut
(A/N FINALLY I FINISHED!! Blood, sweat and tears has been put into this one, so I hope you all enjoy! Love you all <3 Also you may have to open in your web browser bc she is big af xx)
-masterlist-
It wasn't that Y/N didn't like Harry, in all honesty, she didn't know him well enough to come to that conclusion. But from what she'd seen so far, she wasn't too impressed. She had never found it too challenging to make new friends, often finding herself able to get along with even the oddest of characters, but with Harry, it was a different story.
Perhaps if they weren’t forced to stay in the same house during quarantine, having to spend days on end with only each other and their housemates to cure their boredom, things would be different. Maybe, just maybe Harry wouldn’t have come across as so disagreeable and overbearing.
However, at this rate, Y/N was led to believe it was just who he was. An asshole who had somehow tricked the entire planet into believing he was the epitome of the ‘boy next door’ stereotype.
Sarah, Y/N’s cousin, had called her sometime around July, asking her if she wanted to quarantine with her, her boyfriend, Mitch and a few mates rather than alone in her somewhat dingy apartment. Y/N had immediately jumped at the opportunity. Quarantining by herself had already proved to be somewhat tricky and incredibly depressing. While she loved her charming little abode, she was certainly not prepared to spend the next few months stuck inside it, alone, watching ‘Friends’ reruns with a bottle of wine and only her three potted cacti to keep her company.
So, naturally, that led her to the doorstep of Sarah and Mitch's huge shared house with butterflies in her stomach, imagining what her new housemates would be like.
Sarah had told Y/N all about Mitch, Jeff and Harry, exclaiming how funny, kind and welcoming they would be, and well, Y/N was excited, she needed some new friends. After her last break up about a year ago, had lost her a boyfriend and subsequently the mutual friends of his that she thought had become hers too, she felt slightly lonely. For Y/N the chance to cure isolation boredom blues and make some new friends was an offer she wouldn't dream of refusing.
Upon arrival, Y/N noticed that Sarah's description fit Jeff and Mitch to a tee, but Harry? Well, he barely managed to squeeze into it. When she'd walked through the door, Mitch had immediately offered to take her bags and even offered her some of his favourite tea to help her relax after her relatively stressful journey. Jeff gave her a huge hug and asked what her favourite snacks were so he could add them to the shopping list. And Harry? He sat in silence with his head practically glued to his phone, hardly even sparing a glance in her direction.
Y/N didn't let this discourage her. She prided herself on being friendly and often easy to get along with and so approached him readily. However, greeting him with a cheerful, "it's nice to meet you!" and her renowned smile had only earned her a grunt and a disinterested look. Maybe he was just having a bad day?
On the drive to Sarah’s house, Y/N had been thinking about how exciting it was to be able to meet him. While she’d never been an avid fan of his music, she wasn’t blind to the enormous impact he had on the industry. He seemed kind and beyond charming, and well, Y/N had a working pair of eyes, she knew how handsome he was. She had only ever heard good things and was excited to get to know the man who had made her cousin's dreams come true.
However, Harry's blase and borderline rude personality really rubbed her the wrong way. Y/N could understand having a rough day, even she could get a bit grumpy the days leading up to her period, but Harry's impertinence surpassed a simple 'bad day' or two. He was impossible! He would hardly even acknowledge her existence, and on the rare occasion when he did, he was insolent and passive-aggressive. He would nitpick everything Y/N did, from the way she would dress to something as simple as how much soy sauce she had on her sushi! Y/N didn't know how she would survive another week with him, let alone the whole of isolation.
Maybe loneliness, copious amounts of alcohol and friends reruns would’ve been the better option.
——
It wasn't that Harry didn't like Y/N, in all honesty, he didn't know her well enough to come to that conclusion. There was just something about her that grated on his nerves. It could possibly be the fact that Sarah had insisted she was his type before he'd even met her. While Harry had countered, unless she looked exactly like the ex he was still very much pining over he doubted it to be true, Sarah had insisted. She showed him picture after picture from their trip to Europe together, pointing out how pretty Y/N's hair looked, or how dazzling her smile was.
While there was a resemblance to the girl on his mind, Harry doubted it was enough to remind him of the heartbreak she had instilled upon him. Alas, Harry was wrong. When Y/N had floated through the door without a care in the world, Harry had frozen. While Y/N did kind of resemble his past girlfriend Elle, it was the way she acted that frustrated Harry more. She had the same air about her, carried herself in the same way that Elle did, with humble confidence and poise.
Harry hated it. The more he got to know Y/N, the more he realised that she was somehow simultaneously similar and completely different from the girl he was still in love with, and he hated it. She was a constant reminder of what he could no longer have, and he didn't know if he wished Y/N were more like Elle so he could have a part of her back, or if he wished she was a completely different person altogether.
Either way, Harry could hardly hold in the frustration he felt around her, snapping at anything she said and nit-picking her every move.
While he knew he was acting unreasonably, he barely had a cause to stop it.
——
Y/N was usually self-confident and relatively sure of herself, but she was also stubborn, and for some reason was bothered by Harry's opinion of her more than she cared to admit.
So, over the first few days of her staying at the house, Y/N had tried her hardest to get Harry to like her, but her endeavours only seemed to further annoy him. She baked him carrot cake because she'd heard it was his favourite, but with a screwed up nose, Harry had swiped his finger through the icing to taste it and grumbled, "way too sweet," before retreating back to his room. Y/N was embarrassed as Sarah had given her a sympathetic look and insisted "everyone else will love it!"
When doing her washing, she added Harry's whites with hers and even went so far as to dry and fold them too. But when she woke the next day, the clothes had been taken from the laundry, and Y/N was not given a spare glance.
Harry had insisted they watch a horror movie during their weekly movie night, and Y/N didn't say a word of opposition, even though she knew she would have nightmares that night. Sarah had even tried to say something on her behalf, but Y/N quickly hushed her, not wanting to cause a scene and have Harry hate her even more than he already did.
But Y/N's quick agreeance to watch 'Halloween' disagreed with her a lot more than she thought it would. She had hardly slept at all, jumping at the smallest of sounds and debating the probability of a murderous man being able to break into the house. When she turns again for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night, only to be met with the glaring '3:30' from the mickey mouse alarm clock she had nearly forgotten to pack, she gives up.
In an attempt to calm herself down from the numerous haunting images flashing through her mind, Y/N begins her trek to the kitchen. A cool glass of water and perhaps one of the cupcakes Sarah and herself had baked the day before, would surely put her overworked mind at ease.
As Y/N begins to walk down the stairs, she can't help but imagine behind every door a murderer with a knife, that each step in the pitch black was one closer to her death. The eerie silence of the house full of sleeping people only made her feel worse.
Scolding herself for ever agreeing to watch the stupid movie in the first place, she turns around to flick on the lights to the hallway and stairway. Feeling slightly more comfortable now that she could see, she walked downstairs only to repeat the process in the kitchen, dining room and living room until the whole house, bar upstairs, was flooded with light.
Standing in the fully lit kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate she had found in the cupboard and munching away at the sweet treat, Y/N finally begins to feel somewhat safe. That is until a dark figure suddenly emerges from the hallway.
"Harry! What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me," she exclaims while clutching at her rapidly beating chest. With his chestnut curls in a tangled heap upon his head, one sock on and clad in only a white shirt and boxers, he looks slightly worse for wear. "What the fuck are you doing, making such a racket at four in the fucking morning?" His voice sounds strained as if he'd just woken up and his face is screwed in annoyance as he points at the provincial-style clock hanging on the wall for emphasis.
Y/N hesitates, she knew telling Harry his movie choice had kept her awake would not end well, "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you or anything." At this, he scoffs, "didn't mean to wake me, huh? Turning on every fuckin’ light and slammin’ cupboards will usually do that to a person."
Now Harry knows he's being mean, can hear the way his accent thickens with annoyance and can see how she flinches with every raised decibel, and it makes him pause some. He realises there’s more than likely a reasonable explanation as to why she’s awake at such an hour. He's a dick, but he's not a bloody monster, and as he sees her eyes well up with tears, he decides his anger can be put on the backburner.
"Why are you even awake?" At the softened tone in his voice, Y/N seems to visibly relax some but still remains tense. "I, um, I really hate horror movies, and I was scared, and I couldn't sleep." He sighs, and his voice lowers even more, "Is that why all the lights are on?" She nod's sheepishly, "why didn't you say anythin'? You were the first to bloody agree to watch the movie."
"You already hate me enough, I didn't want to give you another reason!" Harry's not sure why his chest slightly aches at that, because if he's honest, she's right, he doesn't really like her at all. As soon as she’d walked through the door and up the stairs to get sorted in her new room, he'd approached Mitch. He'd even made a proper scene, asking why she had to quarantine with them. Mitch had defended her, pointing out that everyone else liked her perfectly fine so far, which Harry supposes was a part of his problem with her. He had made sure she knew of his distaste too, barely even paying her mind, and only doing so to mock her.
So why it felt like his heart was cracking just slightly, he'll never know, but it does lead him to walk towards her slowly, "I can't really sleep either, did you want to watch tv with me until you can?" If Harry was truthful, he'd actually been sleeping like a baby before he heard the cupboard doors shut slightly above acceptable volume considering the time. However, the way her mouth pouted somewhat, and her eyes misted as she acknowledged his dislike for her made him feel awful.
So as he sits on the couch with her, now donned with his own steaming cup of hot chocolate, he leaves the lights on and gives her his favourite blanket to wrap herself in. He sits on the opposite side of the couch and tries his hardest not to fall asleep, so Y/N could feel somewhat protected.
After a few episodes of 'SpongeBob' had played he looks over to the other side of the sofa and sees Y/N fast asleep, snoring with her head tilted at a slightly unnatural angle. He can't help the smile that finds its way onto his face, as he turns off the television and settles himself further into the couch to hopefully catch a few hours of sleep too.
——
To say Y/N is confused would be an understatement. While she wasn't expecting to wake up to Harry presenting a friendship bracelet and a new found love for her, she was expecting him to at least stop hating her.
She was surprised at his kindness last night. She knows Harry gave her his favourite blanket. Jeff was always griping on movie nights because Harry manages to nab it before Jeff has the chance and although he claimed he couldn't sleep, Harry's croaky voice and dishevelled hair led her to believe he was in fact lying.
She definitely hadn't expected him to offer to watch cartoons with her. She also definitely had not expected to wake in the middle of the night to find herself pressed against him with his arms tightly wrapped around her.
Y/N briefly considered moving back to her side of the couch, but if she was being entirely truthful, she missed cuddling. It was one of her favourite things about being in a relationship, and ever since her last one had crashed and burned, she missed the simple feeling of being held. So in her sleep-muddled state, she decided to stay put and hope Harry was as avid a cuddler as she was.
To be honest, after all that, she thought he'd at least start to acknowledge her existence, or at least not act as if it was the bane of his. However, when Y/N awakes the next day, Harry is in the kitchen with Jeff and Sarah, debating on where to start their tour when quarantine ends. He moves animatedly and is clearly laughing and joking about as he usually does with the other occupants of the house. But when she enters, he instantly stops talking and instead puts his head down, seemingly very focused on shovelling his pancakes into his mouth.
Y/N hopes, with every part of her being, that he didn't wake up feeling disgusted by her unconscious affection, but she knew it was a real possibility. And suddenly it feels like she had taken one step forward and two giant steps back.
So yes, Y/N is understandably confused.
——
When Harry had woken up overheated, and with a stifling sense of claustrophobia, he was understandably confused. As he opens his eyes, he recognises the living room's shaggy carpet and cream walls; however, it takes him a few seconds to process why he was actually here rather than in his own bedroom.
The pressure against his chest causes him to startle some, and when he looks down to see Y/N still huddled under his favourite blanket but now pressed against him rather than the opposite end of the couch, the feeling doesn't fade but instead escalates.
How did they end up in this position? Harry knew he was a cuddler, any past lover would be able to tell you that, but that was usually with people he... liked? Why the fuck was she on top of him?
He can just see the side of her face, while the other looks to be uncomfortably pressed against him. Her hair no longer resembles the bun she usually goes to sleep with but a nest upon her head, and what looks like dried drool is smeared across the corner of her rosy lips.
Harry can admit she's cute. In a puppy that's just been kicked kind of way. He feels compelled to brush the strands of hair away from her face and wipe the spit away with the hem of his shirt, but Y/N moving in her sleep draws his focus away. He sees his lanky legs tangled with hers and for the first time notices his arms also wrapped around her, keeping her close.
While a half-asleep Y/N is clearly trying to change her position, his gangly limbs keep her from doing so. And Harry panics. He should not be cuddling with Y/N of all people. Instantly and as gently as possible, he rolls her off him and stands from the couch, only to hear a muffled groan of opposition from the sleeping girl.
Harry was confused, to say the least. He knows it's not a big deal. Two, friends? No. Acquaintances? Hm nope, 'roommates?'... had fallen asleep next to each other on the couch and woken up slightly tangled. It wouldn't be that much of an issue if the last person Harry had woken up next to hadn't been the ex-girlfriend he was very much still broken-hearted because of. Don't get him wrong, it had felt nice to be close to someone again, but perhaps that's the reason why Harry begins to panic even more.
So, Harry folds up the blanket he had been using, walks to the toilet and convinces himself not to think of it again. And it's also for this reason, that Harry can't seem to look Y/N in the eye as she walks into the kitchen. He knows she's looking at him in confusion, and he feels slightly guilty, but what was he supposed to do? Greet her with a cuddle and ask if she'd slept as well as he did? No, Harry would act like nothing had happened, and pray that a problem wouldn't arise from that.
But of course, Harry should have known better.
——
Y/N was quite the baker. She had worked a few summers in her Aunties little bakery and had loved it, but even with her passion and keen eye for icing cakes, there was only so much sweet treat making she could do. She was more participating in copious amounts of isolation baking to please poor Sarah, who was struggling with boredom, and who also happened to love sweets.
So, whenever Sarah would run into her room with a new suggestion, or send her a link to a 'totally awesome' muffin recipe, Y/N would simply bite her tongue and help gather the ingredients. They had already managed to make cupcakes, banana bread, chocolate chip cookies and cheesecake. So when a new recipe comes through while Y/N reads her book in front of the pool, she wonders what other baked goods could even possibly exist for them to make.
Alas, macarons. Y/N sighed and walked to the kitchen, where she knew Sarah would be preparing their ingredients. "Hey bug, ready to bake the best macarons ever?" On the inside, Y/N started dramatically weeping, but on the outside, she exclaims, "sure am! These might be a bit more difficult than anything we've tried though." Sarah scoffs, "oh please, we're up for the challenge."
It's then Y/N notices Harry sitting at the island bench, and he catches her staring, "what? 'M bored." She only nods in response, not really one for conflict. "Are you helping us cook? We could use an extra hand." Y/N kind of hopes he'd say yes, maybe a bit of cooperative, team bonding would mend whatever weird rift they had between them.
However, Harry screws up his nose at her suggestion as if what she had said was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Before he has the chance to snarkily reply to her, Sarah butts in, "Harry actually used to be a baker! Didn't you H." Harry can see Y/N's eyes light up and knows that whatever comes out of her mouth next, he was more than likely going to despise. "I used to work in a bakery too!"
Now, if there was an award for sarcasm, Y/N's sure Harry would probably win it. When he pulls his lips into an over-exaggerated smile and says, "twinnies!" with such derision that it burns, Y/N's smile falls. She didn't know what his problem was. Had it really bothered him that much that they'd accidentally cuddled in their sleep? Who had hurt the poor guy so much that a simple night-time spoon was the be-all or end-all?
She really hadn't meant it, guessed she'd missed sleeping next to a warm body and naturally gravitated towards him. She liked a good cuddle, for fuck's sake, who didn't? If she could turn back time, she would've stayed in bed, wracked with fear if it meant she wouldn't have to deal with Harry's bullshit.
Rather than responding, Y/N puts her head down and begins to read the instructions Sarah had helpfully printed out. Harry is about to make a snide comment, praying that her baking abilities have improved since the carrot cake she had attempted to make, but he gets distracted by the way the afternoon sun is hitting her skin.
Was Y/N kind of attractive? For the first time, he notices that while she had similar features to his ex, Y/N was pretty on her own accord.
While often messy, her hair looked so soft, and her eyes were wide and held a sense of innocence. If Harry looked close enough, he could see the tiny acne spots she hadn't bothered to cover and the small bags under her eyes. He briefly wonders if she'd been getting enough sleep and if he had any of the 'sleepy-time' tea left that had worked so well for him before he realises what he was thinking.
This was Y/N, not Elle, not some chick he'd been fucking, it was Y/N. Maybe he was just confused about his feelings. That was the first time he'd slept next to someone in a while. And well, Y/N was an admittedly pretty girl, and Harry was an admittedly lonely guy who was attracted to pretty girls…
Yeh, there was nothing for him to worry about.
Y/N mistakes Harry's staring as a glare and does her best to avoid looking at him. She didn't want him to see the well of tears in her eyes and give him the satisfaction. By now, she knew he had meant to upset her, and he had succeeded.
It was a shame, he really was an attractive guy. Y/N is fully aware that if she'd seen him at a bar, acting the way he did with Sarah and the guys, she'd be instantly in love. She imagines him at school years ago, he probably would’ve been the guy that everyone developed a crush on at least once, boys and girls alike, and has no doubt he probably knew it too.
Unfortunately, Y/N had not met him in a way akin to a romantic novel. No, she only knew him as an ass who tended to treat her like the dirt stuck to the treads of his overpriced shoes. The only thing Y/N could do was just try her best to ignore him.
——
As it turns out, Y/N was right, macarons were a lot harder than anything Sarah, and she had previously tried to make. Y/N was tired, frustrated and too sweaty for simply baking glorified cookies. The macarons had taken so long to make, and worst of all, the first batch had come out of the oven flat and stiff as a board. Sarah had pulled out the tray as Y/N was beginning to wash the bowls with a hesitant, "are they supposed to be flat?"
Turns out they were not supposed to be flat at all. Y/N tried to hide her distaste as she chewed through one of the shells, but when she saw Sarah's face mirroring hers, she giggled. Harry, who had been sitting at the bench, completing a crossword puzzle, also laughed, "guess you aren't as good at baking as you thought you were."
Y/N would be offended, but notices he's mainly talking to Sarah, and his jesting tone suggests he's not even acknowledging her. "Here, try one. They aren't that bad," Sarah hands him one and he huffs before taking a bite, "better not poison me. You'll have millions of fans to answer to."
As he chews, it’s apparent that he's not particularly enjoying it. After a hefty swallow, he tugs at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as if in deep thought. "These are single-handedly the worst macarons I've ever had in my entire life. And I say that with absolute confidence."
While Sarah scoffs and laughs, admonishing Harry with a gentle slap on his arm, Y/N is entirely distracted. She had never seen anyone else with the same habit as her ex. Ben would tug at his bottom lip when deep in thought, and there Harry was, exhibiting the exact same habit. She was astonished, and she hates to admit it, but small butterflies form in the pit of her stomach. She always had, for some unknown reason found it an oddly attractive trait.
While others might be attracted to muscles or deep dimples, Y/N found the little quirks of others most captivating. She loved the drunken ramblings and the uncontrollable tears during sad films. She loved watching people discover their favourite song and the way they would sing under their breath. She loved the unmade beds, dust-covered books, and overwatered plants. She loved the way people would stutter on certain words or adopt weird nicknames they had heard in their favourite movies. She loved pet peeves and the stories behind them and the routines that they followed. Y/N had always loved people. She loved the things that made individuals uniquely them, and this quirk that Harry shared with Ben, was no different.
If he notices her staring, he doesn't draw attention to it, only continues to banter with Sarah, while Y/N stands in the middle of the kitchen, lost in thought. It’s Sarah's voice that draws her out of her reverie, "c'mon Y/N let's try another batch. I want to surprise Mitch for movie night, he loves these things."
——
This movie-night, Y/N wanted to make sure she would be able to sleep at the end of it, and for that reason, horror movies were off the table- much to Harry's dismay. Sarah, Mitch and Jeff, readily agreed, and after some pushing from Jeff and the girls, everyone agreed to watch a rom-com. The question was which one.
As Sarah scrolls through the movie selections, 'Clueless' catches Y/N’s eye, and she immediately yells out the suggestion with vivid excitement and is promptly met with... silence. "Guys? Clueless is icon-" Y/N starts, only to be interrupted by none other than Harry, "'s a shit movie, we aren't watching it." Before Y/N can object, Sarah comes to her defence, "oi H, don't be an asshole. We know it was Elle's favourite, don't need to take it out on poor Y/N."
While Y/N prides herself on being understanding and kind, she knows she can be a tad oblivious to what's going on around her at times. She had tried to pick up on it when she noticed it and improve because it had indeed gotten her into some awful situations. And if only Y/N had paid a bit more attention to the situation around her, she may not have spat out her next words. She may have noticed Harry's misty eyes and pursed lips, Sarah's empathetic gaze towards him, Mitch's awkward glance in Harry's direction and Jeff's head buried in his hands. Alas, she didn't.
"Who's Elle?"
Silence. Y/N is met with nothing but silence. After a while, she can vaguely hear Jeff letting out the breath of air he had clearly been holding in, and Mitch's mumbled "oh god" under his breath, but she was much too focused on Harry's gaze that was now piercing into hers. "None of your business," he gets out through gritted teeth.
Y/N is somewhat taken aback, she can clearly see that whoever Elle was, she was a sensitive topic for Harry and immediately tries to backtrack. "Oh, um I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" For the second time that night, Harry interrupts her. "Does anyone want popcorn? We forgot to get some." He stands from the couch, now avoiding Y/N's gaze altogether, and she looks around the room to try and gauge the situation.
The only one in the room paying her any notice is Sarah, who shares the same empathetic look with her that she had given Harry not two minutes ago. Sarah mouths ‘ex-girlfriend' at Y/N, and it's safe to say she feels awful. While she didn't particularly like Harry, she would never intentionally hurt anyone, and she makes the snap decision to follow him, in order to apologise to him properly.
When she enters the kitchen, Harry is leaning on the counter facing away from her. His shoulders seem tense, and his hair is dishevelled as if he'd been continuously running his fingers through it.
"Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring up such a sensitive topic." At her voice, Harry's shoulders seem to hunch further, and he turns around while taking a deep breath, "just drop it yeah? Think you've done enough."
Y/N didn't think that was fair. She really hadn't known, and if she had, she wouldn't have even thought of mentioning it. "I didn't know Harry. I won't bring her up again." Y/N had grown familiar with the way Harry's accent thickened sometimes. It happened when he was tired or bored. It was most frequently when he was angry, which seemed to be a common occurrence when she was concerned, and now was no exception. "No shit, stop stickin' your nose into other people's business."
In any other circumstance, Harry might have noticed the way Y/N's eyes instantly started to water, or how she'd retreated and hunched slightly into herself in submission. Harry had noted she was a sensitive little thing, and while he often tried to get on her nerves, when he saw her nose twitch and eyes mist up, he knew to back off. But currently, he could only see red, and the fact Y/N had made no attempt to move, made his fury run even more rampant through his veins. “Fuck off Y/N, I'm not kiddin'. Go back to the living room."
"But Harry, I-" Y/N attempts to get out, but Harry's raised voice causes her to immediately stop. "I said, fuck off!" At that, Y/N snaps. For weeks, she had been doing nothing but try to please Harry, but there was just no pleasing him. He was arrogant, apathetic to everyone around him, pretentious, stubborn and worst of all, just plain rude.
"You're a real asshole, you know that. I understand you're upset, and I'm sorry I caused it, but you don't need to treat me like shit,” she sniffles. “I have tried so fucking hard to get on your good side, but I'm done trying. It's time for you to wake up and realise not everyone is going to hurt you like precious Elle clearly did." Y/N expects Harry to do many different things, she prepares for him to begin screaming, perhaps start crying? She briefly wonders if he would go so far as to push her out of the way and storm out of the room.
Although, one prospect she didn’t consider was for him to start laughing. "Oh Jesus pet, you think you're that special? You think you can even begin to be compared to her? Think I'm scared you'll.. what? Break my heart?" As he continued to speak, the sound of his voice grew as did his rage. The veins on the side of his neck only became more pronounced, and the crease in his brow caused his whole face to contort.
The increase in volume had caused an audience to gather. Jeff, Sarah and Mitch stand in the kitchen entrance helplessly watching the two rip into each other. Mitch is the first to step in, "Harry c'mon, that's enough."
"Fuck off Mitch, stay out of it." He turns back to Y/N, "please, sweetheart, save yourself the heartbreak. Have you ever considered that maybe I just don't like you? You're fucking annoying, and your pathetic attempts to get me to like you are even more so. What were you hoping would come from it? I'd ignore the fact you grate on my nerves 24/7 and pay you a bit of attention? Maybe even get you off once or twice? Is that it?"
Sarah is next to attempt to break up the fight, "Y/N don't bother, Harry's just upset."
It took a lot to get Y/N mad. She was usually calm, maybe a bit emotional, but very rarely did she raise her voice. But Harry, with his constant grouching and aggressive nature, had pushed her well and truly past that point. "Save it, Sarah. Are you fucking serious Harry? I was just trying to be a nice person. I'm not sure how to tell you this, but not everybody is trying to get into your pants. Guess you'd be so used to girls throwing themselves at you until they have a fucking conversation with you and see what a dick you actually are."
He snarls at that, "trust me pet, they're proper gaggin' for it." Y/N scrunches her nose in disgust, "You're fucking disgus-" The quietest of the group is the next to interrupt. "Oh for fucks sake, both of you, shut up!"
Jeff was usually quietly spoken and hardly ever lost his temper, he was similar to Y/N in that regard. As Harry's manager, he had formed a close relationship with the green-eyed boy over the past few years, and not once had Harry ever heard Jeff raise his voice. So when Jeff yells, even Harry knows it's time to back off. He stays quiet and instead gives Y/N one last lingering glare before retreating upstairs to the safety of his room.
Y/N can't help but burst into tears. She hated conflict, and would usually avoid it at all costs, but Harry deserved to be put in his place a bit. Immediately, Sarah is at her side, attempting to console her, but it only makes her cry harder. Y/N feels pathetic, she hated crying in front of people, and Jeff and Mitch's lost stares were not helping the situation. Sarah follows Y/N's eye line, "can you both get out for a bit?" Both boys all but run out of the kitchen. Now that they were alone, Y/N allows herself to really cry, hoping a good sobbing session would clear her thoughts and emotions from the situation.
——
Harry was sad. He was not going to say he was always sad, because, in actual fact, Harry was happy a lot of the time. He could admit he had a good life, filled with love, happiness and fun, but there were some times when joy felt more like a mirage to him, something unattainable.
And maybe it just wasn’t for him, maybe true happiness wasn’t in his cards.
He was someone who quickly became obsessed, found solace and comfort in certain things. Sometimes so much so it became a flaw, something he felt he would die if he lived without, and one of those was Elle.
It used to be his mum, then music, then Niall, then Mitch, then Elle and then... nothing. Harry hadn’t found something or someone he felt he could rely on entirely since her. It seemed now he only had himself, and in his mind, that was a potentially dangerous thing. His mum was miles away, Mitch found his own solace with Sarah, Elle had left him, and Harry had never felt so alone.
Isolation made it worse, he couldn’t distract himself with performing anymore, with drinking his body weight in alcohol or finding pretty girls who looked eerily similar to his ex, to spend a few hours with. So often he found himself uncontrollably crying, alone in bed. Harry never felt shame in crying, but there was something particularly mortifying about being loved by millions of people worldwide, yet still sobbing into his pillow because his girlfriend had broken up with him. Not only dumped him but had cheated on, destroyed him and ripped his heart into little shreds.
And that’s where Harry was now. Lying in bed, his pillowcase wet with tears, eyes stinging and red, his cheeks stained and raw from his constant rubbing at them, and his back aching from the occasional sob pulling at the already taut muscles.
Harry just needed a hug. He needed someone to tell him it was okay, that things would work out because at this point he honestly didn’t know himself.
——
The next few days in the house are hell. Not just for Harry and Y/N but for everyone stuck isolating in the space. Y/N and Harry refused to talk to each other, only sharing pointed glares. Harry does all he can to piss her off, without ever having to say a word. While out for his regular morning walk to buy coffee, he purposely 'forgets' Y/N's. When it was his night to cook, he plays the English rap that he knew she hated at full volume, while making prawn pasta. Which really wouldn't have been an issue, if Y/N wasn't bloody allergic to seafood. While he claimed to not know, Y/N saw through him. Just the week before she had refused to eat lunch when Jeff had made tuna sandwiches and had clearly explained why.
Y/N tried not to let it bother her and instead did everything she could to avoid him. When he'd come home with everyone's regular coffee order but hers, she exclaimed she "preferred homemade!" and brewed her own cup. She put in headphones and shut her door in an attempt to drown out the crap he called music. And when Harry had placed a massive bowl of steaming pasta that she couldn't fucking eat in front of her, Y/N smiled and ordered pizza instead.
Mitch struggled through the week, staying as quiet as he usually was. If he was honest, he wished he was just quarantining with Sarah. He loved Harry but also knew that he could be a dick when he wanted to be. So despite Harry's constant prodding for him to join in on shit-talking Y/N, Mitch tried to stay out of it.
Sarah spent the days keeping Y/N company. She felt slightly guilty that she had invited her to spend isolation stuck in a house with what happened to be the only person Sarah had ever met, who hated Y/N. Instead, she listened to her rant when Harry couldn't overhear. She baked cookies with her, and they sang shitty pop music at the top of their lungs whenever Harry decided to blast his music.
Once again, Jeff surprised everyone. While they were used to his calming and genuine presence by now, no one expected him to play peacekeeper. Harry supposes he should've seen it coming, being his manager for four years, meant the guy had to have some kind of problem-solving skills. So Harry promptly nicknames Jeff, 'Switzerland' and despite his denials, Harry knew Jeff secretly loved it.
Jeff spends the next few days quietly talking to all the other house members like some sort of pseudo spy. And finally, after three long days of combat, by some miracle, convinces both Harry and Y/N to talk out their issues and apologise.
At first, both Y/N and Jeff agreed he should be in the room to mediate, but upon the request of Harry, he was waiting just outside the door, waiting for any sign of a fight, to run in and play referee.
So that led them here, with Harry sitting on one end of the couch, oozing with confidence while actually being a mess on the inside, and Y/N on the other, nervously picking at the hem of her jumper.
Harry is the first to speak, "look Y/N I'm sorry. You were right, Elle's a bit of a sore spot for me, and I overreacted." She nods in acknowledgement before speaking herself, "yeh, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pried like I did.” He nods along, still somewhat convinced he wasn’t entirely in the wrong.
It’s the next question that makes Harry’s blood turn cold, “I just… I just need to ask why? What did I do for you to not like me? It started before last night. Before I mentioned… her.” Y/N scoots around the heartbreaker’s name.
She watches as Harry bites his lip in what looked like deliberation before he replies, a deep sigh sitting on his pretty lips. “I don’t know. I know that’s a shitty thing to say, I treated you like shit for weeks, but it’s true. I just don’t know.”
Y/N’s taken aback. Weeks of torture, hatred and tears and he couldn’t even tell her why he’d acted the way he did. “Harry, you can’t be serious. There must be something! You... you were so mean.”
Y/N watches as tears well in his eyes, and she briefly wonders if she shouldn’t have pushed the topic. “I don’t know, I don’t fuckin’ know.” He lashes out, once again, his anger getting the best of him.
Y/N throws her hands up in defeat, “I don’t know what you want from me, Harry. I’m trying here I really am, but you won’t give me anything. What do you want me to do?”
“I know you are,” he all but chokes out. Harry didn’t know how to express himself, a million thoughts were running rampant through his mind, and he felt like if he were to try and speak, he’d have to spend hours detangling each thought from the other like shitty Christmas lights. He takes another deep sigh. He had to try, he knew it wasn’t fair to Y/N. And well, Harry wasn’t exactly happy either, maybe it would help to tell someone how he felt.
“It’s just when I look at you... I see her. I see her in the clothes you wear and the way you laugh. You look the same for fucks sake, give me the same doe-eyed look and.. she never apologised. Never said a word, I found her in bed with my… with my best mate, and she just fucking left,” he cries out. “And when I first saw you, and you gave me that fuckin’ look I just... I just got so angry.” Harry’s face briefly scrunches in frustration, but it’s quickly overcome with grief.
He begins to cry harder, his shoulders racking with sobs and Y/N doesn’t know what to do. She sits helplessly, watching the man she very much despised breaking down in front of her, crying previously unshed tears with his head in his hands.
What was she supposed to do? She wasn’t going to say it was alright because it wasn’t. But god, he looks so pitiful, and Y/N knows what it’s like to have a shitty ex. She knows how painful it is to see them again after they’ve just broken your heart, knows how hard it can be to feel completely, totally and 100% betrayed by someone you loved.
It wasn’t okay, and Y/N doesn’t know if it ever will be, but seeing Harry, the stubborn, prideful man she’d come to know, breaking down in front of her, well Y/N can hardly stand it.
So she does the first thing she can think of, the one thing that made her feel better after her own breakup.
She hugs him.
She feels him tense up in her arms and for a brief second, Y/N wonders if he’s going to push her away, but instead, he relaxes. Even goes so far as to push into her slightly, allowing himself to rest his head against her chest, with her arms around him like a tantrum-throwing toddler.
Harry can’t remember the last time he was hugged. Maybe by his mum before the pandemic, probably in a similar situation, crying over Elle in a pathetic attempt to find comfort in anything that wasn’t her arms.
Harry had returned to LA to record three songs, “it would be two to three weeks max,” Jeff had assured him. But now he was fucking stuck here, in the same place he lived with her, heartbroken in a house with people he loved, but unfortunately would never talk about Elle with.
Harry missed London. He missed him mum, his sister, the pubs and the tube. He missed hanging out with more mates than he could count, his little writing studio and his cat. Harry missed his own bedroom, his candles that he forgot to pack and his own record collection. Harry missed walking to the little cafe a few streets from his house, he missed the snow.
But Harry especially missed Elle.
He missed her cuddles and her sweet little kisses. He missed the way her nose scrunched when he tried to kiss her in public. He missed her laugh and her awful cooking. He missed her book recommendations and her screaming to pop music on the radio. Fuck, he even missed her screaming at him.
And what a way to make his longing worse, being stuck with the dead ringer of his ex-girlfriend, only to find she was nothing like Elle, which Harry almost hated more.
Y/N wouldn’t yell at him when he got angry but rather cry, her tears always sending a sharp pain to his chest. And Y/N didn’t pretend nothing worried her or upset her, she was open and honest. When Harry hurt her, he knew, not because she ignored him or called him a prat. No, he knew because she told him, even if it was with tears streaming down her face and a few “assholes” mixed in there. Y/N didn’t call Harry’s hobbies stupid, she liked them too, even had her own silly ones herself. She enjoyed baking, doing puzzles, and reading out loud to herself. She liked Disney movies and hated horror and loved cider but not beer.
And Harry found himself not hating her at all, but rather himself. Because somehow, within his heartbreak, he had managed to become attracted to someone who looked and acted exactly like his ex on the surface but was someone completely different in every other way. He couldn’t treat her like Elle, couldn’t pretend she’d hurt him just as bad, and he knew that.
No, Y/N was a completely new risk and a new potential heartbreak. Harry was terrified, and this new territory that at first felt so familiar, made his chest ache and his tummy flutter, so he avoided it altogether. Pushed her away before anything could even happen at all, for his own good, to protect a heart that couldn’t take being broken again.
The two of them sat there for what felt like hours. Until Harry’s sobs slowed themselves down, and he was only shivering and sniffling quietly. Y/N continued to hold him, it seemed like he just really needed to be held.
Elle had clearly broken his heart, and Y/N knew that a part of healing was letting this anger and emotion run rampant. So she stayed put, allowing him to just sit in the sadness, and allow himself to feel a little bit of hope that everything would work out eventually.
“It’s okay Harry. It’s going to be okay.”
——
Y/N wasn’t sure this was a good idea. How could it be? Not even a few days ago, she and Harry couldn’t stand being in the same room as each other, and now they were alone in a car, on their way to the grocery store. It all felt too domestic.
But this was Harry, and she definitely shouldn’t be worried about the state of her car, or how to subtly remove the McDonalds wrapping on the floor in front of his feet. Just as Harry, after being handed the aux cord, probably shouldn’t have spent half the journey wondering if she liked the song that was playing and looking out of the corner of his eye to judge whether he should skip it or not.
But here they were, walking on eggshells around each other. Hoping they both wouldn’t do something to accidentally piss off the other.
If you’d told Harry a week ago that he would be on the way to the grocery store with Y/N by his side, he probably would’ve laughed and faked a gag. But Harry was actually the one who had suggested the trip, much to the surprise of not only Y/N but the rest of the housemates.
They hadn’t exactly addressed his breakdown, but it seemed they’d both come to a mutual understanding to try and put the past behind them. Harry considered himself lucky, he knew he had caused and furthered the rift in their friendship, and it was because of this he knew he had to put more effort into building the trust between them back up.
So, when Y/N was recounting the ingredients for the dinner she was planning on making, Harry had asked if she’d just come to save him remembering the long list. Y/N’s first thought was she could probably just write it down for him before she realised he was actually trying to be nice. And that was more than she could say for the last month of her living with him, so she agreed.
The grocery store was busy, filled with impatient mothers and fun-drunk teens, and Y/N was having trouble pushing the cart through the throngs of people. Harry was walking ahead of her, too preoccupied with his list (and she supposes himself) to notice her struggle and she’s never been one to ask for help. So instead tries her best to avoid the ankles of other shoppers and attempts to keep up with the cracking pace Harry had set.
It’s only when he turns around to find her ten feet behind him, does Harry acknowledge her, his eyebrows pinched in annoyance, “what’s taking you so bloody long?” To say Y/N was taken aback would be an understatement. After everything, he’d manage to stay friendly for what, half a day?
“Excuse me? Doing so well at being friendly Harry, might want to pull it back, before I get the wrong impression.”
Maybe it was Y/N’s sarcastic words that pulled Harry back, or perhaps he realised himself, but he really hadn't meant to be rude. At first, it was more of a joke, but he guessed that he’d become so accustomed to being snarky with Y/N, it’d come out a lot more maliciously than he’d intended.
“Fuck, what? No- I didn’t mean it like that. I was tryin’ to joke, but it came out wron- Fuck! I’m sorry, okay?” Somewhere in the middle of Harry’s rambling, Y/N starts to giggle. While she had taken it the wrong way, she was mature enough to understand she’d simply interpreted it wrong.
“Harry relax, look like you're about to pass out. Sorry I took it the wrong way,” she shrugs, “now, where are the pickles? I’ve been craving them for weeks.” Harry’s slightly taken aback, he’d never met someone who could put an extremely valid argument behind them with such ease.
Harry wouldn’t have blamed Y/N if she’d gotten angry with him, stomped her feet, made a fuss and yelled in his face, after all, he had spoken to her like a prick. But just like that, she had defused the argument and made Harry feel better instantly, even though he was in the wrong. Nonetheless, he follows her through the isles, making sure to help her steer the trolley when the crowd was busiest.
Harry had actually started to enjoy himself on this trip, he wasn’t going to lie. Y/N had an easy going way about her that he hadn’t really bothered to notice before. It made it easy to chat about nonsensical things, including Harry’s first dog and his preferred brand of nail polish while they peruse the aisles. He was doing all he could to make sure the rest of the trip didn’t contain any silly arguments like the one that had almost sparked just ten minutes before, and he believes he was doing a good job.
After stopping by the fruit aisle for some cherries (they were in season, and there was no way Y/N was missing out on the tiny period they were in season for, even if they were ridiculously overpriced,) they reach the aisle that contains pickles. Finally, Y/N had been craving them for weeks, and nothing could stop her now, not even the fact that they were on the top shelf. Y/N’s brows pinch in annoyance, who put pickles that high up anyway?
She halfheartedly sticks her hand in the air, her fingers barely brushing against the bottom of the jar before looking behind her, watching Harry laughing at her struggle. “Are you going to help me or just keep that smug smile on your face?”
This makes Harry’s smirk upturn even more, turning into a full boyish grin, dimples and all. “Say please sweetheart, and I might just consider it.”
Y/N rolls her eyes, “please,” and although it is sarcastic and hardly genuine Harry takes it, walking over and reaching for the last jar of pickles.
What happens next could be blamed on many different factors; the humidity in the supermarket being higher than the average store, it could be blamed on Harry’s sweaty fingers or maybe even the worker who decided to put them on the top shelf in the first place.
Whatever the fault, Harry grabs the container and almost delivers it safely to the cart, until it slips from his grip and instead ends in a puddle of shattered glass, stray pickles and dripping juice. And of fucking course it’s the last jar, and of fucking course it’s Harry who drops it, right in front of the girl who’s been craving them for so long.
Harry is almost scared to look up at Y/N’s face, knowing he was more than likely going to be met with a pouting, red, furious mix. She really had been talking about the fucking pickles for weeks, and after both Jeff and Sarah had forgotten to get them in the last two shopping trips, he can imagine her desperation.
It’s as if time was working in slow motion, Harry sees the residue pickle juice dripping from the handle of the shopping trolley, can feel his sock getting progressively wetter as the liquid seeps into his canvas sneaker. And Harry immediately starts to apologise, “fuck I’m so sorr-“ but is interrupted by Y/N manically laughing. Well, he had expected a lot of different reactions, but he hadn’t expected… laughter?
“How did that even happen,” she gets out through her laughter, “you’re an idiot!” Harry can’t help but join in. He was covered in pickle juice, and in hindsight, the situation was pretty funny. “Oi, ‘s not my fault the jar was more slippery than the average.” This only makes Y/N cackle harder, holding her stomach as though it was hurting.
“Hold on, I’ll get something to clean it up.” As Harry watches Y/N walk away, probably to find a worker, he can’t help but think again how different Y/N was from Elle. Harry distinctly remembers shopping with her one Christmas and accidentally dropping the last box of red and white candy canes (what can he say, he can be a right clutz.) She had been shaking with fury, voice dripping with poison as she asked Harry why he was “such a fucking idiot?” He guesses she was stressed because of the time of the year, but Harry had always hated her vicious temper, which Y/N apparently lacked.
Harry had only really seen Y/N angry or upset until now, but he could safely assume that was of his own doing. When they were getting along, she seemed to make him feel better without even trying. She could laugh despite herself, and poke fun at Harry without feeling like she was actually reprimanding him for something, and Harry, well he hadn’t really experienced that before.
Harry sees Y/N returning, with what looks to be a less than impressed worker following behind her. That is until she sees Harry standing there in all his six-foot glory, covered in pickle juice.
She seemed to be around 20, with blonde hair braided into two plaits that sat around her neck. She had bright green eyes, and if she was a little older, Harry probably would have said she was cute. And by the looks of it, she would’ve revelled in such treatment, when she approaches Harry with a, “I’m so sorry, Mr Styles!” Harry waves off the apology, he had been the one to drop the pickles anyway. “No worries love, ‘m sorry bout’ the mess.”
It’s like her eyes brighten two shades at the pet name as she begins to sweep up the broken glass, blushing as she does, “oh don’t even worry! Can see you made a mess of yourself as well.” Y/N can’t help but laugh, was she actually trying to flirt with a pickle stained Harry? He catches Y/N laughing behind the worker and grins, “sure did. I’m a bit of a clutz sometimes.”
Now, Harry knew that his personality was very likeable, he was easy to talk to, and he wasn’t exactly bad to look at, so he was somewhat used to casual flirting. Who was he to pull up someone trying to shoot their shot? Usually, he preferred to go along with it, stay polite and at the end of the interaction, cut the conversation before anything serious came of it. And the girl (Hannah, according to her name tag) standing in front of him, cleaning his mess, was no exception.
“Can see that,” she winks. Actually, fucking winks and Harry can’t help but feel slightly smug, his presumption had clearly been correct. He doesn’t see the harm in playing along, “oh can you? Thought customer service was all about being nice to the customer,” he teases lightly. Hannah giggles flirtatiously and if Harry thought she was blushing before, his effect on her is multiplied. “I’m nice, I promise!”
Y/N almost gags, she hated PDA at the best of times, but to see them both drooling over each other made her feel sick to her stomach. Harry’s smooth reply does nothing to quell her nausea, “mhm, I bet.” Y/N would literally rather walk home than be subjected to this torture any longer. “Okay! Thanks again for being so understanding, c’mon Harry, we better get going.”
Harry thanks the server again, giving her a small wave and a cheeky grin as he follows Y/N to the counter to check out their items. “Really, Harry? She looked about 15 years younger than you.” Harry scoffs, “fifteen years?! You think she was twelve, do you? How old do you think I am?”
Y/N doesn’t hesitate to respond, “old enough to know better than to flirt with someone so young.”
He couldn’t believe she was pulling this. Harry was a flirty person naturally! He never meant anything by it, and very well knew when it was appropriate and when it definitely wasn’t. He didn’t see how a little friendly conversation could hurt in this situation. “Oh please, she was at least twenty, and I was hardly flirtin’” As the worker is scanning their items, Y/N is packing them into the reusable shopping bags. “Still gross.”
Was Y/N jealous? For a second, Harry felt the frustration swim through his veins like poison, but the knowledge of Y/N potentially acting out of envy acts as an antidote. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous lovey.” It was Y/N’s turn to scoff. If she’s honest, she’s not sure why the sight of Harry flirting with the server annoyed her so much. She was young, but Harry was right, she was very clearly of age and also stunning.
Maybe it was the fact she hadn’t acknowledged Y/N with more than an eye roll but readily grovelled at Harry’s feet. It could’ve been leftover frustration from the pickles she would have to hold out from for another week. Or maybe it was that she didn’t like him calling someone else ‘love.’ Perhaps she was just frustrated that it had taken her months for Harry to be civil with her, but had taken ‘Hannah’ all but five minutes. Whatever the reason, she didn’t like the pit in her stomach or the tingling in the tips of her fingers. “Not a chance, Harry.”
Harry just smiled in response, while Y/N felt waves of negative emotions rolling through her, he felt butterflies erupting from the pit of his tummy, a small fluttering reaching all the way to his heart. Harry was ready to admit, Y/N’s jealousy made him happy. He was a narcissist; that he knew, and a pretty girl getting frustrated that his attention wasn’t purely focused on her, made his vain little heart soar.
This little shopping expedition had given both of them huge revelations. Harry realised, the thought of Y/N being jealous over him made him extremely happy, and maybe even gave him some new spank bank material? Y/N realised that while she and Harry could be civil, it didn’t mean they didn’t know the exact places to poke and prod at each other to cause a reaction.
——
It was Y/N's turn to pick a card, and although she'd initially been hesitant to play this game, she could admit she was having fun. When Harry had first pulled out 'Truth, Dare or Drink,' her first instinct was to ridicule him and say, "I didn't realise we were still in eighth grade," but she bit her tongue. After the supermarket, she still felt like she was continually filtering everything she said, worried a single word may be the negative turning point for their relationship.
And well, after a few rounds, Y/N realised the game was much too risky for a bunch of eighth-graders and found some questions too intrusive even for her adult self to answer. However, with the help of at least half a bottle of chardonnay, she found herself managing just fine. Jeff had called it a night a few rounds ago, claiming he was "getting too old for this shit," but it didn't stop the rest of the group from playing.
"Okay, ask the player to your left what their favourite sex position is. If they can't answer- both of you drink four sips." Immediately, Y/N turns to Sarah, who happens to be sitting on her left and also happens to be bright red. With a quick, "come on babe, all friends here," from Harry, Sarah buries her head in her hands before mumbling, "from behind." The answer causes an eruption of giggles and hollers from the very tipsy group and a sly smirk from Mitch, making Y/N laugh harder.
"Alright shut up you lot," Sarah grumbles before picking up her own card. "Dare one player to share their best and worst hookup, or both of you finish your drinks. Okay, well the only one mean enough to name and shame would be Harry, so off you go H." This is met with a disgruntled, "oi" from the man in question and a casual "not wrong," from Mitch. While Harry huffs, he seems to have no issue and responds immediately, almost like he had the answer on the tip of his tongue.
"Best was Elle, obviously. And worst, um," he deliberates for a few seconds before continuing, "was this guy I met in Brazil, he was awful! Didn't even prep my poor arse, just went straight in for the kill. Was scarred for months." He's met with roaring laughter, and at first, he tries to look pissed but ends up giggling along with them. While his poor bum really had taken a beating that night, in hindsight it was a funny sex horror story for a drunken night. "C'mon Mitchy boy, your turn."
Mitch picks up the card and immediately scoffs, "This one's to all players, take two sips if you have ever been attracted to someone else currently playing this game." Unsurprisingly both Mitch and Sarah drink, sending cheeky winks over their cups to each other. But what shocks every player at the table is both Y/N and Harry lifting their glasses. They make eye contact with each other as they are sipping and Harry raises a questioning eyebrow towards her.
Y/N quickly looks over to Sarah, to see her sitting with her own bewildered look, glancing between them. She had known Y/N enjoyed Harry's music, but maybe didn't know how much she also fancied him- that is until she had a conversation with him.
"So you've either had the hots for me, my girlfriend or the chick you hate, nice H," a very inebriated Mitch says with a laugh. If Y/N hadn't already been watching him, she might have missed the flash of guilt that flickers through Harry's eyes. He looks over at her with an apologetic look, "I never said I hated-"
"It's fine, Harry. Just pick a card, it's your turn." Y/N interrupts him, she wasn’t going to lie and say that it didn’t sting. However, while she knew they'd come to a newfound understanding, Y/N was well aware that it had initially come from Harry's resentment of her. He sighs but picks up a card anyway, pausing some, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks, before reading it aloud. "Uh... give the person to your left a hickey, or finish your drink." At first, Y/N laughs until she realises that the person sitting to his left would be her.
In an attempt to lighten the situation, Y/N spits out, "go on, start drinking then." Mitch and Sarah start to laugh, "I could've called that one," Sarah chuckles, but Harry looks rather unimpressed. While she actually didn't care if Harry were to give her a hickey, (let's be real he was a dick, but a hot one at that!) she knew he would be thoroughly put out by it. They had become civil, not ‘drunkenly-give-one-another-a-hickey’ level friends.
"I'm not the one with the problem. I doubt he'd wanna kiss on the girl he hates." Y/N had meant it to be a joke, she really had! But the underlying biting tone would be almost impossible to miss. She was definitely playing with fire here, knowing Harry could snap at any moment. She watches as Harry's nostrils flare slightly before he bites back, "no problem here, you're just scared you'd enjoy it too much sweetheart." At that Y/N scoffs, his arrogance never ceased to amaze her, "oh please, don't give yourself so much credit, Harry."
He laughs, "are you saying you wouldn't?"
"Almost certain of it," she quickly retaliates. Now, Harry knew he was a dick. He knew he could be impatient and rude. Was aware of his short temper and sometimes biting passive-aggressiveness. Had been well informed of his bad habit of sometimes oversharing and even bragging too much. Even knew how annoying his constant discussion of the superiority of salads to veggies could get on the nerves of those around him.
But the one thing Harry knew for sure, was that he was good at fucking. He loved to see the person he was with, shaking with pleasure below him. Thoroughly enjoyed giving his partner everything he had, to hear them screaming his name with their eyes rolled back in pleasure. Harry liked having sex, and on account of others, Harry was fucking good at it. So Y/N sitting there, doubting he could make her feel all amazing and jittery, probably pissed him off more than it should have.
"Fucking c' mere then." While Harry had merely said that in the heat of the moment (and possibly to get a rise out of Y/N) he was beyond shocked when she actually got up and stood before him. "I'm here. Now what smartass?" His jaw ticks and he raises an eyebrow, silently questioning Y/N's challenge. Did she really want to get involved in this? Surely she knew Harry would come out victorious. Apparently not, because she crosses her arms and scoffs, "knew you were all talk."
Now Y/N doesn't want to admit she's intimidated because god this was Harry she was thinking about. However, when he grips her arms, flips her around and pushes her back into the chair he was just occupying, Y/N can't exactly say she's fine and dandy.
Harry was much taller than her when they were both standing up, but with her sitting down, he towers above her, and she can't help but feel childlike and demure. His shit-eating grin only grows when he sees that, and he slowly bends down until his cologne infiltrates Y/N's nostrils and fills her head with a fog she can't quite get rid of. "What was that, darling?"
Y/N is willing herself to say anything, literally anything that wouldn't fuel his already raging ego. If she's honest the barely mumbled, "um, nothing," doesn't really cut it, but what was she to do? Before she'd met Harry, Y/N probably would've considered his looks to be something akin to her ‘dream guy.' So, when he places his hands on each armrest beside her, essentially trapping her, it doesn't exactly help to calm her nerves. Harry oozed sex, and if the look in his eye was anything to go off, he knew it.
As his face becomes level with hers, Y/N can smell the sweet apple cider he had been drinking and can feel the bottom of his unbuttoned shirt brushing against the tops of her thighs. And for the second time that month, Y/N wonders if she should move away from the compromising position she and Harry had found themselves in, but she once again decides against it. Harry places his hand against the side of her neck, hooking his thumb under her jaw. He encourages her to move her head further to the side with some gentle pressure, which she happily obliges to.
Y/N can't help but inhale sharply when she feels his slightly chilled lips gently brush against her earlobe, before placing a tender kiss behind her ear. "Is this okay?" If Y/N were in a better headspace, she might have tried to play this whole thing off with an indifferent nod. Instead, she feels herself nodding rapidly, and takes a moment to curse herself as she feels Harry's lips curl into a grin at her eagerness.
Harry allows his lips to run down the side of Y/N's neck so lightly he knew it must be tickling her. Once he reaches her collarbone, he places a quick peck against it before once again trailing his lips up her soft skin, leaving light kisses in his wake. Y/N's breathing stops as she feels Harry's tongue touching her skin as he begins his ascent, leaving a chilling trail that sends shivers through her whole body.
She feels herself slipping into a hazy state, in which all control was given to Harry, and while her first instinct is to break it, her second is to bask in it. Her decision is hastily rewarded when Harry starts to suction his lips against her.
Y/N actively silences the whimper that arises from her throat as Harry continues to bruise the skin he kisses, and she briefly wonders if he had heard the beginnings of her mewl as he chuckles, sending a gust of cold hair down her neck. Harry gently bites down on Y/N's throat, which causes a small sting, the aftershocks travelling all the way down to her toes. But his tongue laving over the mark works to quickly soothe the ache.
While she felt as if she had sat feeling the effect of Harry's mouth for hours, it had only been about ten seconds in reality. But the familiar pull in Y/N's lower stomach screams at her to ignore time, grab his shirt and push her mouth against his. However, the cough heard from behind her, quells these dirtier thoughts almost immediately. And just like that, as quickly as it had come, the pleasuring warmth Harry provided was gone.
Y/N struggles to flutter her eyes back open, that she hadn't realised had even closed in the first place.
Well, she wasn't expecting that, and while she assumed Harry would feel the same, his deep smirk tells her something different. He looks at her with a hunger in his eyes, and she briefly wonders if he felt the same pull towards her. Y/N was fighting the urge to drag him to the nearest bedroom and instead clears her throat and looks behind her to assess Mitch and Sarah's reactions.
Safe to say, they were as shocked as she was, with gaping mouths and wide eyes, everyone sits in silence for what feels like far too long. Y/N was embarrassed. Usually, she hated PDA, yet she'd just let Harry suck on her neck like some kind of B-grade vampire in front of her cousin and her boyfriend.
Y/N stands back up to move around to her own chair, but with her head down, she misses Harry reaching to brush his knuckles against her own, but only feels the comforting touch. Harry watches as she refuses to meet his eye, and while he enjoyed himself, he hoped he hadn't gone too far with her. But when Sarah grabs her head and pulls it to the side to see the blooming mark on Y/N's skin, Harry can't help but smirk and feel slightly proud. Y/N had said she was okay with him touching her, maybe she was just flustered, and if her bright red cheeks were anything to go by, that's Harry's safest guess. "Jesus H, you really did a number on her."
Y/N refused to acknowledge the effect Harry had instilled upon her, but she can feel her cheeks radiating a cherry-red heat, and she can only pray no one else notices. "Uh, it's my turn," she manages to choke out, and a quick glance at Harry shows she's not hiding her flustered state as well as she'd hoped. His dimples are on full display, decorated with his complacent grin, and he's sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over one another.
"Pick the most attractive player, both of you take three sips," you've got to be fucking joking, she was pretty sure everyone knew her answer to that, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. "It's Sarah. Who's next?" Sarah cheers' Y/N's glass and takes her sips as she grabs the next card.
Y/N can see Harry's disgruntled look and can vaguely hear his murmured, "bullshit," but she only sends him a glare as she takes her three sips.
——
Harry was drunk. No cut that, he was fucked. It was approximately six ciders ago that he began to feel light and giggly. And then maybe two or so ciders ago he began to have trouble walking in a straight line and was genuinely considering shaving his head. And now, he was here. Planted on the couch watching Y/N and Sarah sing some song he definitely knew but couldn't name, Taylor Swift maybe?
His head felt heavy, and if he was honest, thoughts were entering his head and then leaving it before he could even acknowledge what they were. He can vaguely recognise Mitch's voice, talking about something that Harry, no matter how hard he tried, could actually listen to. So he sits on the couch and watches Y/N. She looked pretty with her hair down and messy, and Harry wishes he could stop her from dancing and ask if she could just sit next to him instead. But he thinks he's probably just drunk and maybe a bit lonely, so he doesn't.
He's not sure if he was calling Y/N's name and hadn't realised or if she had noticed how not okay he seemed, but she approaches him anyway. "Harry, are you alright?" She looks worried, and Harry hates that he's made her feel that. He's tempted to use his thumb to mould the lines in her forehead back out like cheap clay, but he's not sure she'd want him to touch her. So he nods lightly, attempting a smile, but she doesn't return it.
"Sarah, I'm gonna take Harry up to bed, he seems pretty gone." Harry doesn't hear Sarah's response because he's too busy focusing on Y/N's lips and how pretty and puffy they are. He briefly wonders what they'd feel like around the head of his cock, but he's drawn out of those thoughts when he realises she's calling his name.
"Harry, c'mon, come upstairs to bed with me." Um, had Harry missed something? He doesn't really mind, truthfully he'd quite like to take Y/N upstairs and have his way with her, but, Y/N must see the look on his face because she laughs, "not like that you lecher! God, you really are pissed."
Harry smiles and takes the hand she's giving him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders for stability. The group had experienced quite a few drunken nights during isolation, but Y/N had never seen Harry this intoxicated before and while she's quite enjoying him acting kind of goofy, she's just praying he doesn't vomit on her during their climb upstairs.
Y/N does her best to guide Harry to his room, who provides absolutely no help, only giggling to himself as she struggles to hold him up. Finally, she makes it, only realising once she had stepped inside, that she had never actually seen Harry's room before.
Similarly to Y/N’s, his room has the shell of a guest bedroom, the art on the walls a little too unpersonalised and the furniture stark and white. The bones of the room are fleshed out with Harry’s belongings, clearly in random places that were not permanent, as if he’d placed his records and guitar down the first day he got there, and left them in those exact same places. There are dirty clothes strewn upon the floor, and books sitting next to glasses stacked neatly on the bedside table. Next to them, is a candle that Y/N can’t read the scent of from her position in the doorway, something sweet from the smell permeating through the room, mixing intoxicatingly with Harry’s telltale sandalwood like cologne.
Harry stands in the middle of the room, clearly having forgotten his purpose as he turns to look back at Y/N with a slightly lost expression. "Want to get into bed Harry?" He nods and stumbles over to his mattress, falling rather than laying in it. As Y/N's about to turn around to go back downstairs, she hears Harry's voice, much quieter than it usually is, "I'm sorry." She's not sure if she heard him correctly.
"What did you say, Harry?"
"I'm sorry." He whispers.
"For what?" Y/N knows what he could be sorry for, he did treat her like shit for weeks, but they’d already apologised and somewhat buried the hatchet. "For bein' a dick. You don't deserve it, never did." She walks closer to him, until she stands about a foot from the bed, and can see Harry's eyes full of sorrow and close to tears in the dark.
"Come on, you're just drunk. If you want to talk about it more in the morning, we can." Y/N knows he'll forget by then, she's not sure he even remembers what he just said. He holds his hand out to her, and she hesitantly takes it, "ya just look so much like her, you know? Act like her too." Harry repeats the same words he’d told you yesterday.
"Who, Harry?"
He looks at her with his big green eyes, and she knows he's drunk, and she knows he'll forget this all in the morning, but she can't help but sit down beside him on the bed.
"Elle."
Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t want Harry to burst into tears again, the topic clearly sensitive, let alone in his intoxicated state. So she stays silent, watches as Harry shuts his eyes, and Y/N nearly thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he reopens them again, "nicer than her though. Prettier too."
Y/N's not going to lie, hearing Harry talk about her in a way that wasn't entirely negative for once was flattering, but she couldn't help but feel it was more the cider talking. She knew how much he missed Elle, that much was obvious, and she had thought that was what had made him hate her so much. She was worried he would wake up angry that he had told her things he hadn't intended to, or even worse, something he hadn't meant.
So she leans over him to grab the side of the bedsheet he had torn away, but his freezing hand on her neck causes her to pause. His thumb is lightly brushing over the mark he left on her earlier, and Y/N audibly swallows. He was close enough that he could lean in slightly and press his lips against the same spot once more, but he doesn't, only whispers, "looks so good on you." Y/N feels his warm breath against her bare neck as he speaks, causing that pull to return to her lower stomach once more, "H, I don't think we should do this right now."
Y/N didn’t know what exactly ‘this’ was, she just knew she didn’t want either of them to be intoxicated when it happened. The Harry Y/N knew, would pull back, laugh and ask if she really thought he'd ever want to do 'this' with her, but this intoxicated and unpredictable Harry presses his lips softly to her neck once, before pulling back and sighing. "I know."
He studies her face carefully before speaking again. "You've never called me H before, I like it." Y/N sighs, "honestly I didn't think we were on that level. Thought you'd get mad at me," she laughs lightly although what she said was true.
She had thought about adopting the same nickname everyone else in the house used but was too scared he would make fun of her or ask her why she felt she had the right to call him that. So she played it safe, only calling him Harry, but she guessed the nickname slipped out while he was very much inebriated and very much unlikely to say any word of opposition.
If Y/N didn't know any better, she'd think Harry looked almost hopeful as he whispered, "so we are now?" but the expression is fleeting. She wants to feed into it but isn't sure if it's more her mind playing tricks on her. Showing her things she desperately wants to be true, only to turn around a reveal it was fake the whole time. So she shrugs, "I don't know Harry."
He nods slowly but doesn't say anything else. "Try to get some sleep." He nods again, "night."
"Night H."
——
Harry doesn't know what happened. Had he been drugged? Used as a voodoo doll? Abducted by aliens? Something had happened, because when he woke up with a pounding head, his first feeling was disappointment. But not disappointment about having to nurse a shocking hangover, no, it was disappointing that Y/N wasn't in bed with him. He could’ve sworn she had come upstairs with him.
Harry was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he didn't hate her and perhaps, just maybe had developed a small crush towards her. But wishing she was cuddling him after a drunken night? That was too close to something serious, something that Harry was definitely not ready for. Not after Elle.
Walking down the stairs, he wonders if there's a reason for his sudden desperation? He vaguely remembers giving her a hickey, but that was a part of the game. He remembers Y/N walking into his room and sitting on his bed, but can’t recall what was actually said.
Stepping into the kitchen, feels the same as usual, maybe with added head pain. Mitch is doing the dishes from the breakfast sitting on the table in front of Y/N and Sarah. Everything seems painfully familiar. Except, looking at Y/N now, with sober goggles and daylight, Harry completely understands why drunk him was so enamoured. She looks beautiful, with an oversized tee-shirt barely covering her smooth legs, her hair in a messy bun atop her head, and the striking hickey against her neck painfully obvious. Seeing Y/N with his mark against her neck makes Harry have to will his stiffy away. She hadn't even tried to hide it.
Harry doesn't know how long he'd been standing in the entrance of the kitchen, staring at Y/N like a creep, but she catches his eye and sends him a shy smile. "Mornin' H, brekkies on the table," Mitch states, as Harry quickly returns the smile Y/N gave him and sits across from her, "looks good, man. Thanks for cooking."
Harry is slightly shocked when Y/N speaks up from the other side of the table, he had been expecting her to ignore him like she had after he’d given her the mark that was causing a tingle in his lower tummy. "How's your head?" She says softly.
He gives her a small grin, "it's been better if'm honest." She laughs, "yeh, you were pretty fucked last night." Harry can't tell if she's genuinely just making conversation or if she's trying to figure out if he remembered the events that occurred. "Was I? Not too drunk to remember giving you that," he points at her neck with his syrup covered fork. His words have their desired effect as Y/N turns bright red, "really does look good on you love."
Harry's not sure what he's doing, he's aware of how flirty he is being. While they were now able to be around each other and have a conversation without biting each other’s heads off, hitting on each other was a whole different ball game. All he knows is that the more he looks at Y/N, the more he wants to get on his knees before her.
Harry had never flirted so openly with Y/N before. What the fuck was he playing at? Y/N had assumed that Harry became a tad clingy and loving with a few drinks in his system. So as he sits across from her, dead sober, and continues to flirt with her, Y/N is confused. Maybe he was still drunk? Had he taken something she wasn't aware of? Been probed in the middle of the night? She wasn't sure, but she couldn't say she didn't like it.
She also didn't want to get too comfortable, only for him to turn around and treat her as horribly as he had when she first got here. So she gives him a small smile and continues to eat her breakfast, merely listening to the conversations happening around her.
——
No matter how hard she tried, Y/N could not get the thought of Harry off her mind. Could still feel the ghost of his lips trailing along her neck, and the way his hand brushed along hers. She couldn’t help but imagine the way his lips would feel pressing softly against her own, his tongue licking into her mouth. She imagines his hands to be soft but still firm as they held her hips, her neck, her own fingers laced in his. His voice replays in her head, and she wonders how his accent would twirl and twist around filthy words, whispered into the shell or her ear.
She can't forget how she felt hearing the lilt of his voice when it was flirting with someone else. Can’t get away from the pit in her stomach, the aching head and chest. She had laid awake for so many nights trying to figure out why exactly it had bothered her so much.
She could only amount it all to a certain type of jealousy, but what was she jealous of? Harry had never shown her any sort of romantic attention before, that is until he was suckling at her neck and calling her sweetheart. But what did it all mean? Did he feel the same pull towards her, or was she just imagining his sudden fondness of her? Did she actually like him, or just the idea of his lips pressed against hers rather than her neck. She needed to talk to someone, and thank goodness for her, Sarah was home.
Ever since they were little Sarah and Y/N had been ridiculously close. They had experienced each stage of their lives together, from playing at the local playground to trying their first cigarette in the bathroom of Sarah’s family home. Sarah was the big sister that Y/N had never had, always there for advice or a bit of fun. Teaching her about sex and drinking, what it was like to kiss another person or drive a car for the first time. Sarah explained everything with practiced expertise that looking back on, Y/N could see she definitely didn’t have at the time.
Their family homes were only a road apart, and every day either Y/N or Sarah would make the small trek to each other’s house and spend hours discussing nothing and everything. Sarah was the closest thing Y/N had ever had to a sibling, and after Sarah had left for tour with Harry and the band, Y/N had felt a Sarah sized hole in her heart. Honestly, for Y/N, quarantine felt like a blessing in disguise, she felt like they could make up for the months of lost time and distance between them.
In search of her cousin, Y/N only comes across Mitch reading in the living room, “hey, do you know where Sarah is?” He glances at Y/N from above his book, owlishly blinking as if he was confused, and maybe he was. Mitch is well known for getting lost in anything he loves, from books and movies and especially in his music. “Um, the shower… I think?”
Bidding him thanks, Y/N heads towards the downstairs toilet where she could hear the water running. While they all had bathrooms in their rooms, they’d found the downstairs communal shower particularly helpful. It was easy to slip into after they’d just come back from swimming at the beach or a run, without mucking salt water or sweat through the whole house. Y/N knew Sarah had gone out for a jog about an hour ago, so had no doubt she was having a quick wash before dinner.
If it were anybody else, Y/N would’ve waited until they had finished, but ever since they were thirteen or so, Y/N and Sarah had an odd tradition of having intense conversations while one of them was showering. Y/N still remembers the week Sarah’s parents had decided to split up, she had spent every night sitting on the closed toilet seat crying and ranting while Y/N stood under the hot water, listening and trying her best to comfort her. It was a weird habit of theirs, but for them, the chance to chat with someone without having to look them in the eye was therapeutic, almost like a church confessional.
Although Y/N was relatively happy, she wasn’t about to enter a religious confessional. When it came to Harry, she had definitely committed at least four of the seven mortal sins. No, it was just Sarah, and Y/N knew that no matter what she admitted, it would be received with love and unconditional support. So she charges through the bathroom door, eager to spill all that was muddling up her mind, “Sarah! We need to talk about Harry, I need your help.”
Y/N expects Sarah’s tinkling laugh, soothing cooing, maybe even a big sigh and her calming voice asking her what was wrong. Instead, she is met with the deep and drawling laugh of Harry himself.
Looking back now, Y/N wishes she could say she dealt with her mistake with careful grace and poise, but instead she lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and as she sees the shower curtain drawn to the left she slaps her hands over her eyes. The melodic laugh of Harry’s continues as he clearly notices her current predicament, “can look if you want babe.”
Y/N whines, “I- um, no. I don’t- I thought you were Sarah. What the fuck is happening.” Y/N can hear the smirk in Harry’s voice as he answers, “yeh Y/N, I got that. Seriously, I’m covered up.”
And maybe, it would’ve been better for Y/N to stay standing with her hands over her eyes like a petulant child because as she drops them, the sight she’s met with is one to behold and one Y/N’s not sure she can handle. Harry is covered with the shower curtain pulled across his bottom half, but Y/N trails her eyes upwards, sees the small trail of slightly damp hair leading down to the white curtain, and her eyes widen comically, he looks like a wet dream and Y/N’s not sure how to react.
His curls are stuck to his neck and forehead, matted against the soft wet skin. His naturally tanned chest is on display, dripping with water, and covered in his tattoos. Y/N can’t help but notice the inked swallows along his chest, drawing attention to his collarbones, the skin taught against the bone, and Y/N wants to kiss along it and taste the mix of salt and sweetness of his neck. The butterfly covering his abs ripples as he clears his throat, drawing Y/N’s attention away from his body.
“So what did you need to talk to Sarah about, hm?” Anything I can help you with?” Y/N can feel the blood rush to her cheeks, fully aware that Harry had caught her ogling at his partially naked body. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and she’s not sure whether it’s from the sight in front of her or the embarrassment of being caught staring at it.
Y/N stutters, trying to force herself to say something, anything at all that would make this situation less unnerving “um, I-no?” Which comes out more like a question than anything, and Y/N curses herself for her weak resolve. Harry smirks, “Cat got your tongue pet?” Y/N hates how easily he can get her worked up, and hates it even more how obvious it is to him. “Stop teasing me! I can’t, you know, I don’t-... you’re naked okay!”
Harry’s dimples deepen, and a smirk takes over a little less than half of his face, “don’t pretend you don’t love my teasing, darlin’.” It’s at this point that Y/N realises that she had been in this situation much longer than appropriate, standing flustered and hot from Harry being so close to her while nude.
“I need to go,” it comes out as more of a whisper, her voice rough with lust. She coughs as if to clear her throat, but from what she’s unsure. The intense desire she feels for a man she despised a month ago, perhaps? “Relax Y/N, no big deal. I think Sarah’s in the shower upstairs though if you’re still looking.”
She nods in response, slowly backing out of the room before turning around and quickly shutting the door behind her. She feels her breath heaving in and out of her lungs. Feels her throat tighten and her head dizzy, and an intense tingling feeling starts at her toes and spreads all the way to her lower tummy. The familiar pull of lust and need brings an ache to her core, and she feels the sticky heat between her legs.
While Y/N may not know it, Harry is affected by her as much as she is by him. He stands in the shower, a stupid grin across his face, dimples indenting his cheek. Harry could pretend he didn’t see Y/N blatantly ogling him, or her cheeks burn a delicious crimson when she had gotten caught. Could even pretend he didn’t see her subconsciously squeezing her thighs together while she stood in front of him, like she was so desperate for Harry she couldn’t even wait to relieve the tension building inside of her.
Harry could pretend not to notice, but as he felt a tingle zap down his spine, and the accustomed rush of blood to his lower half, Harry realised he didn't want to. Would rather explore this unnerving territory, and see what it had in store for him.
——
Harry had reached a new level of boredom. So much so, he had resorted to doing a puzzle.
Harry was notorious for always being busy, was constantly on tour, playing shows and promoting his music. The quietest periods in Harry’s life were the months of writing he’d participate in, where his mind was anything but still. He wasn’t used to doing nothing all day, and while he had tried to write during isolation, the months of doing fuck all made inspiration hard to come by.
So it led Harry to his current situation, trying to complete a challenging puzzle at the dining table. Sarah and Mitch were napping the late afternoon away, Jeff was playing Xbox games in the living room, and Y/N had gone for a walk, right after she had brought the puzzle out from her room after Harry had asked her to. He had heard her talking to Sarah about how much she loved puzzles a few months ago and had even shown her the one she had brought to quarantine; however, she hadn’t gotten the chance to start it yet.
Harry had been doing nothing all day, and he was sick of sitting in bed, refreshing his Instagram feed every ten minutes. To be honest, a puzzle wouldn’t have been Harry’s first choice of a relaxing pastime activity, but there was only so much social media and movie marathons Harry could take.
He was nervous at first to ask Y/N. Over the last few days, it seemed like there was a certain tension between them, as if they were both aware of the lust that had been swirling throughout the bathroom as thick as the steam from Harry’s shower, but didn’t want to admit it. They were testing the waters, sometimes stumbling through amorous conversations, while still attempting to maintain their indifference.
However, he was slightly remorseful of his decision for a different reason, when he asked Y/N if he could borrow it from her, she had squealed in excitement, telling him her ‘top tips’ for completing a jigsaw for at least ten minutes. He guesses her passion and love for the shitty quarantine past time, overrode her awkward feelings towards their situation. If he was honest, Harry didn’t give a fuck about “making sure to find the corners first!” but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he nodded along and pretended to listen.
But Harry had really come to regret his decision when he hadn’t found a piece in over an hour. He was frustrated and the stifling temperature Sarah insisted on keeping the house at, wasn’t helping. He had completed a small section at the top right corner, five or six pieces on the left, and a few random bits he had stuck together and somehow happened to get correct. He was slightly embarrassed when Y/N returned from her walk, to find him with his head in his hands, looking more than sorry for himself. Her tinkling laughter doesn’t make him feel any better, either.
“Having trouble H?”
He looks up to her standing in the doorway, attempting to plaster his award-winning grin upon his face, “if I’d known it was this hard I never would have asked if I could do it.” She grins back, and walks over to the table, looking down at the pieces with a concentrated focus. “Hm I never said it was going to be easy, thought my tips would help, but I guess not.”
Harry tries yet another piece that doesn’t fit with the ones surrounding it, and sighs, “if the puzzle master wants to help, that would be lovely,” he lilts. She picks up the segment Harry had just dropped and places into the correct position on the opposite side of the puzzle that Harry had placed it in. “You’re flattering me now.” She hesitates for a tick, “lucky for you, I like it.”
Harry loved this new dynamic between them, it was light and teasing, something he hadn’t had with her before. He’s not going to lie and say that he didn’t slightly enjoy the biting exchanges they had previously shared, but this flirty air between them was exciting.
“I’ll keep that in mind pet. Now, what were those tips again?”
It’s safe to say Harry was impressed with Y/N’s skill, he had never thought puzzles were that difficult until he actually tried to complete one. Y/N however, was fast, seemed to pick up pieces and instantly be able to connect to where they should go, and quickly finished at least ninety percent of the puzzle. Harry fit the odd part in place, which Y/N praised each time, with a small cheer and a “well done!” each time. Finally, the puzzle was almost complete with only one gap in the picture of golden retriever puppies climbing on one another.
Y/N looks at Harry and hands him the last puzzle piece, “you should put the last bit in.” Harry can’t explain the warm glow that emits from his heart, he doesn’t know why it makes him so happy. She was kind and considerate, and Harry wasn’t used to people always putting him first, usually being doubtful of anyone he hadn’t known for a while, worried about what their true intentions were. “You sure? You did most of it.” She giggles, “nah, we did it together!” Harry takes the bit of cardboard from her and places it in the last empty spot.
He looks up at Y/N who’s grinning at him stupidly, and he can’t help but smile back. It’s then that Harry starts to really look at Y/N. He notices the dusting of freckles on the top of her nose, her eyes laced with pride and happiness and her lips, the bottom one stuck between her two front teeth, but both looking so soft and sweet. Y/N must catch Harry staring at her lips because she releases the supple flesh from between her bite.
“Did you have fun?” She whispers.
Harry tries to reply, but his voice dies in his throat. All he can manage is a small nod, his gaze dropping back to Y/N’s mouth. He lifts his hand to her face, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, and she leans into the touch slightly. Unknowingly, they had gotten even closer, and Harry can feel her small puffs of air against his lips, could brush them against hers if he leaned an inch forward.
“Harry, what do you want to do for dinner?” Mitch yells from the room one over, scaring both Y/N and Harry, who instantly pull away from each other. Harry coughs, “um, I don’t know man.”
Mitch walks into the room, Sarah in tow, who sees the completed puzzle on the table and runs over, “you finally did it Y/N!” Harry looks over to the girl in question. Her cheeks a cherry red as she looks over to Harry, “uh yeah, Harry and I did it together.” Sarah looks between them, with an impish look on her face mixed with slight disbelief, “oh, that’s… nice.”
Harry’s attention is drawn away from Y/N when Mitch pipes up again, “I was thinking tacos, so we could make frozen margaritas for game night.” Harry is grateful for the change in topic, knowing Sarah was more than likely to make a comment that Harry was not ready to address. Particularly if Y/N had indeed continued the conversation she had planned to have with Sarah a few days ago when she’d walked in on Harry in the shower.
“You know I’m always down for a margarita.”
——
Y/N was slightly buzzed. She hated feeling entirely out of control when she drank, and she’d found the perfect point between dead sober and sloppy. She felt a warm feeling in her fingertips and toes, felt slightly light-headed and was just a tad obnoxiously giggly. The group had been playing monopoly, and while Y/N usually hated the game, she was thoroughly enjoying it tonight.
Sarah had been helping Y/N, so she wasn’t so lost in terms of properties and the differences between houses and hotels. Jeff was as quiet as usual, but somehow had a secret talent for swindling properties and hoard money. Mitch had prioritised his margarita over the game, buying random properties when he felt like it, and fucking up everyone else’s plans of winning. And Harry had made it his mission to beat Y/N. If he was honest, he just loved seeing her pout every time he would buy whatever spaces were left of the colours she was aiming for, or teasing her every time she got a smaller roll than him.
As Harry bought another green property that Y/N was gunning for, she realised she was nursing an empty glass. “Does anyone want another margarita?” Agreements come from all around the table, so Y/N gets up, grabbing a few empty glasses. As she stands, she feels the blood rush to her head, a slight dizziness tingling through her body, and she giggles as she stumbles towards the kitchen.
Harry and Mitch had made the previous rounds, Y/N watching the first couple be made. Which meant she probably should remember the ingredients, but if she’s honest, the copious amount of alcohol running through her bloodstream has caused a lapse in her memory. Was she supposed to put one or two cups of ice in? Y/N curses herself and her shitty memory under her breath, realising she will definitely need help. She was clearly too tipsy to think coherently.
“Oi, how much tequila do I put in? And is it Cointreau or triple sec? And how much ice do I use” She yells into the adjacent room, sighing slightly, hoping someone would come and help her. And she can’t explain her excitement when Harry rounds the corner, maybe because the pressure of making the drinks had been lifted, but more likely because it was simply him. He comes in with a smiling face, his hair slightly messed and his eyes filled with the misty happiness of someone who is perfectly buzzed.
Y/N couldn’t quite describe the shiver that travels down her spine or the tension she feels in her stomach, all she knows is in the last few days, the intense feeling had begun to grow stronger whenever Harry was around. There was something about him, the way he carried himself, the shy smirks he’d give her, or the gentle touches he’d provide as he walked passed her.
In every touch, every look and every feeling she got from Harry, Y/N could sense the tension growing stronger. She was amazed the rest of the group hadn’t picked up on it, other than Sarah of course, who was watching from the sidelines, waiting for one of them to crack.
“What’s the problem bunny?” His eyes soft as he walks over to a defeated Y/N. He watches as her eyes crinkled slightly as she giggles despite herself, “I wanted to make everyone drinks, but I realised I don’t actually know how to.” She sheepishly watches Harry’s face mirror her own with a small grin, “well that just won’t do, will it? Sit on the counter n’ I’ll show you again.”
She jumps on the kitchen bench, the surface cold against her otherwise alcohol flushed skin. She watches Harry gather the ingredients from around the kitchen, noticing the way his back strains against the white and yellow t-shirt he was wearing, the arch of his back clear and his shoulders strong and broad.
Over the past week or so, Y/N had started to see the funny and charming personality that the rest of the household had previously been privy to. His witty and sweet persona had shone through, and it had done nothing to curb the intense sexual feelings she felt towards him, instead they were only growing, especially with each pet name that his puffy pink lips shaped around.
Harry begins to place the ingredients in the blender, and Y/N is confident he’s giving her instructions as he does so, but she is just so distracted by his strong fingers adorned by his shiny rings, each one a different shape and size. “Are y’listening?”
She snaps her eyes back to his face, to see one side of his pretty mouth tugging upwards, suggesting he already knew the answer to his own question. “What are you lookin’ at my hands for?” She feels the warmth rush to the apples of her cheeks, sheepishly replying, “I was just looking at your rings, they’re very pretty.”
He smiles and jokingly holds his hand up to her face, wiggling his fingers. Y/N chuckles and grabs his pointer finger, pulling it towards her to get a better look. She holds his hand while looking at the silver band wrapped around his digit, eyeing the small red ruby shining brightly in the centre of it, “like this one,” she whispers. He matches her volume, stepping closer in order to hear her, “it was my mums, she gave it to me after my first concert sold out. Her mum gave it to her after she got married.” She runs her finger over it gently, noticing the worn edges, and tries to imagine the many stories it had experienced in the hands of three generations. “It’s beautiful.”
This felt like a moment for both of them. Obviously, Harry and Y/N had experienced many conversations and experiences before, but none quite like this. Harry feels the warmth from her body radiating into his, can feel the sweat from her hands as she holds his own. He can hear her calm breathing, the slow rise and fall of her chest. Of course, Harry had felt lust before, but he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to kiss someone as badly as he does right now.
He can’t explain how desperately he wants to inch forward, hold her pretty face in his hands and press his lips against hers. Instead, he makes do, moving closer to her and feeling a bloom of happiness in his chest when she opens her legs for him to stand between with no hesitation.
She smiles, his hand still nestled into hers, although her focus had moved far beyond his rings. It now laid solely on his face and the way he was looking at her. He rests his free hand on the counter beside her, close enough that she could feel the outside of his thumb brushing against her upper leg.
Harry bites his tongue, he wants to say ‘so are you,’ but even he knows that’s cheesy. Plus he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries, he knows Y/N is attracted to him but is also fully aware that doesn’t equal consent. He settles for lightly brushing his thumb against her leg and watches as a shiver racks through her body. With a slight giggle, she grabs his other hand, that’s causing the mildly uncomfortable sensation, with her free one, “that tickles.”
And Harry’s not a mind reader, but now they’re just holding hands, plain and simple. He doesn’t know if she feels the same heat and tension settling between their lips, but the way she leans in slightly, tilting her head to the left gives him an indication she does. It’s subtle, and if Harry hadn’t been sitting between her legs praying she’d do exactly that, he might not have picked up on it. But he does.
He leans in too, leaving a slight gap between them. Y/N can feel the tiny puffs of air, leaving Harry’s mouth and drawing into hers and can feel the little tufts of hair tickling her forehead.
She brushes her lips against his gently, testing the waters. He feels as soft and warm against her as she’d imagined. Y/N retracts slightly, unsure if she had overstepped a boundary. The only reaction she could read was a sharp inhale on his part, and she was worried that it wasn’t a positive sign.
But she couldn’t have been more wrong.
He lifts his hand from hers and places it against her neck, his hands big enough to tuck his thumb under her jaw, while still using the rest of his fingers to gently push her back against him.
She tasted so much better than he would’ve thought, sour from the margaritas with an underlying sweetness that he couldn’t put his finger on. Harry can barely hold in his groan when her tongue slides against his lower lip, and he gladly opens up further. He feels her whimper against his thumb before he hears it, the rumbling sending vibrations up his arm, leading him to feel dizzy.
He feels Y/N rest her hands against his shoulders, sliding them over his neck and resting her forearms behind his head. She leans further into the kiss, somehow opening her legs further, her hips slightly bucking towards his own in a silent plea for friction. Harry doesn’t hesitate to give it to her, pressing himself against her and instantly feeling the effect of his actions. She runs one hand through the curls sitting at the back of his head, tugging gently and pushing her own hips back with as much vigour as he had.
That is until the click of heeled boots is heard echoing against the kitchen tiles.
The speed at which Harry jumps away from his position between Y/N’s legs is comical, and she almost wishes she could see it from an outsiders perspective. However, not as much as she wishes Harry’s lips were back on her own.
Y/N looks between the boy she had been kissing with his hair messy and fluffy, and the apparent growing bulge in his pants to the shocked Mitch standing in the entrance of the kitchen. His mouth hangs open comically, and his hands hang loosely by his sides.
The silence is too much for both Harry and Y/N to bear and looking at Y/N’s face, now bright red, and brimming with embarrassment and stress Harry feels it’s his responsibility to put her slightly at ease. “Mitch… um look-”
“What the fuck is going on here?” Harry doesn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before Mitch is interrupting. Harry pipes up again, “it’s nothing!” Y/N can feel her brows turning downwards and the corner of her lips curling in annoyance. She knows Harry is more than likely trying to cover their asses, but Mitch had seen them kissing, and it didn’t make Harry downplaying everything hurt any less.
Harry sees her face and quickly tries to backtrack, “well I mean not nothing… it’s something!”
“No shit it’s something! How long have you guys been fucking for?” This time Y/N is the first to speak up, “we are not fucking! We haven’t even-“ she starts, completely flustered, her face somehow becoming even redder, “we just kissed!” Mitch bursts out laughing, as Y/N and Harry stay completely still, both absolutely mortified.
“Alright mate, fuck off,” Harry grumbles, praying that Mitch would just leave the uncomfortable situation alone. And he does, still laughing as he finds his way back to the living room. Y/N has no doubt that he would go straight to Sarah and Jeff to share what he’d just seen. Harry turns to
Y/N and while he tries to maintain a serious face for her sake, he can’t help but let out a small chuckle.
It wasn’t the first time Mitch had walked in on him during a ‘private’ moment, some a lot worse than what he’d just witnessed. But Harry doubts any would be more shocking than the kiss Mitch had just seen. According to him, Y/N and Harry were at most on civil terms. So to see them, in a more than compromising position must have been a considerable shock to the system.
“Why are you laughing, you ass?” While Y/N’s words are anything but kind, her face gives away her true feelings, a small grin peeking through. She wasn’t too concerned, Sarah already knew the current situation Harry and Y/N had found themselves in, as well as Y/N’s feelings on it. She was probably waiting for this very scenario to occur.
However, she was worried about where Harry and her would go from here.
She knew he was attracted to her, he wouldn’t have kissed her otherwise. Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe Harry had done it in the moment, and didn’t feel that same attraction all the time. What if he saw her leaning in and was pitying her? Y/N was terrified that now that Mitch knew, Harry would be too embarrassed to kiss her again.
But Y/N’s worry is immediately put to hold when Harry grabs her hand again, “you’ve got to admit it’s funny.” He rubs his thumb against her knuckles, hoping to soothe any worry still running through her veins, “are you okay though?” Y/N smiles and squeezes his hand, “yeh, more than.”
Harry leans in slowly, making sure that even though Y/N had claimed she was fine, that she would still be okay with him kissing her again. She doesn’t move away, instead moves closer and he smiles and presses a soft kiss against her lips.
“We should probably get back out there,” he mumbles against her plush lips. She nods in response, squeezing his hand once more before jumping off the counter. “I’ll see you in the living room.”
——
Harry didn’t regret kissing Y/N, not by a long shot. What he did regret, however, is two things. The first was agreeing to continue drinking with Mitch after everyone else had gone to sleep, and the second, kissing Y/N while intoxicated.
He had enjoyed it, he knew that much. But he’s fully aware that he may not have gotten the chance to absorb every detail of the moment. He couldn’t forget the feeling of her lips against his or the way she bucked up against him. However, he is struggling to recall the way her hips felt under his fingertips, or whether or not he could smell the strawberry scented shampoo she used, that previously, he had only caught gusts of.
Harry needs to know, when they kissed, did her eyebrows furrow the same way they do when she bites into a warm jam donut? Or when he slotted his hips against hers, did her mouth hang open, eyes shut tightly like when Sarah dug into the knots in her back? Did she make the same sounds Harry had already heard? Or were there some privy only to moments of privacy like the one her and Harry shared? He didn’t think to notice if the skin on her cheeks was as soft as it looked, or even if her hands held onto him as firmly as they had grasped onto the chair, the night Harry had first gotten so close to Y/N.
Harry couldn’t help but feel like he’d somehow hiked up mountainous terrain, dodged every jagged edge Y/N initially threw at him, stumbled through open conversations and insinuations. Felt he had somehow navigated overwhelming selfishness and every mixed feeling, to finally reach the top and for some stupid reason just close his eyes. He was only just able to smell the mountainside air and feel the rocky surface but was utterly blind to the magnificent sight in front of him.
Harry was also worried that Y/N was too intoxicated to know what she was doing. Harry was big on consent, always had been, and he knew the chances of drunk him doing something Y/N wasn’t okay with was very unlikely, but what if? What if for some reason he couldn’t read the body language of the girl he had spent months admiring? Or what if she had said something of opposition and he hadn’t heard her?
Harry was stressed, and the pounding headache beating through his head was definitely not helping.
He knew the only way to make sure what happened last night was okay and enjoyable for both parties, was simply asking Y/N. So after going to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on his face and changing into some sweatpants, Harry makes the trek downstairs.
He’s met with an interesting site. Mitch is sitting at the kitchen counter, head in his hands and shaking his head. Jeff is doing dishes and looks to be purposely clanging noisy dishes in front of Mitch and then laughing at each flinch racking from the man's body. While Y/N is standing at the stove, cooking something that Harry can’t decipher, in her cloud pyjama pants and a sweatshirt that looks suspiciously like his.
If Harry listens intently enough, he can hear her humming under her breath, a soft tune that lifts all the features of Harry’s handsome face upwards.
Harry starts by walking over to Mitch, placing his hands on both of his shoulders and squeezing lightly, “c’mon Jeff, lay off the poor guy!” Jeff only laughs in response jokingly swatting at Mitch's head, still buried within his hands.
At the joking tone within the kitchen, and the fact that Jeff had not immediately berated Harry about his relationship with Y/N, Harry realised Mitch had decided not to tell the rest of the house. Or at least not Jeff. Harry couldn’t have been more thankful for Mitch's undying loyalty and bizarre talent of somehow knowing exactly what Harry wanted or needed. With Y/N’s relaxed manner, he assumed she had come to the same conclusion.
At the sound of Harry’s voice, Y/N whips around, her face lighting up at the sight of the man she had kissed not 12 hours ago. And the look of delight and need on Y/N’s face works wonders to calm Harry’s nerves, while Y/N’s were skyrocketing. He looked as handsome as ever with sleep still gracing his features, his chestnut hair in a mess on top of his head and eyes slightly puffy and red. In all honesty, Y/N couldn’t get over how it felt to kiss him, and while it had happened, she couldn’t help but feel thirteen again, with a crush on the cute boy in class.
It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking, his tongue darting out from between his lips, leaving them wet and glistening in the early morning sun. And Y/N just can’t seem to draw her attention away from them, can’t stop the image of him pressed against her replaying over and over in her mind.
Maybe it was the way her eyes drooped slightly, her nostrils flaring ever so subtly, but Y/N gets the feeling that he knows exactly what she’s thinking, his left eye dropping in a wink that leaves Y/N’s tummy fluttering.
“Mornin’ love.” His voice is hoarse and deep with residue drowsiness, and it does nothing to ease Y/N’s churning stomach. She coughs lightly before replying, “morning H.” Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet and manner docile, as she tries to hide the less than appropriate thoughts running through her head.
He walks over to the stove, leaving Jeff and Mitch behind in the presence of someone far more interesting. “Smells good, what are you cookin’?”
Y/N giggles, the sound unnecessarily loud and she cringes at herself before replying, “um, pancakes. Made some more just in case you guys wanted some.” In truth, Y/N knew Mitch didn’t like pancakes, Sarah wasn’t even awake yet, and Jeff had just started a very strict ‘no sugar’ diet, and so those extra pancakes were specifically for Harry after she had heard his sink running upstairs. And well, Harry knew all of that too. He feels a certain spaciousness in his chest one can only attribute to gratitude, and it makes him want to draw her close to him and kiss her cheek in thanks.
Instead, Harry grabs her small hand in his and squeezes it lightly, before walking over to the fridge to get the maple syrup. “What’d you want on yours, babe? Nutella?”
Y/N smiles and nods her head, giddy with the tingling feeling travelling through her hands and the prospect of spending more time with Harry.
——
The day had been quiet. Y/N felt as if she had been wading through water all afternoon, sluggish and slow but somehow using more energy than walking on land required. The whole house felt slow-moving, most of its inhabitants spending the day in front of the TV, reading books or napping. And so it made sense for their daily activity to be a movie night.
The housemates had decided a Disney marathon would be a perfect end to a hungover day, and with Jeff’s only condition being that they watched ‘Bambi’, everyone was in agreeance.
Y/N had offered to organise the snacks and drinks while everyone else brought down pillows and blankets from upstairs, the room looking cozier then she had seen it in the past few months, and at the centre of it, Harry.
In the same position, he had been in the night they had sat watching cartoons in the early morning together, only to fall asleep and wake up in each other’s arms. It felt like so long ago now, but Y/N knows in reality, not that much time had passed. She found herself feeling thankful for how their relationship had evolved, and the effect a little time had given them.
It was funny how far they had come. Y/N was so worried Harry had hated her after that, she now wonders if he’d always felt some type of draw towards her, or if he really had hated her as much as he made out. She briefly wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as she is, as he looks at her questioningly, standing in the doorway of the living room, unmoving.
Y/N smiles lightly, and begins to move towards the couch, realising that there were three blankets in total, one being used by Mitch and Sarah, seemingly very close underneath the cover, one thrown over Jeff and the other sitting across Harry’s legs. She hesitates for a moment, the obvious choice being Harry, but she isn’t sure where their relationship stood, and more importantly, how much the rest of the housemates knew about it.
Harry quickly provides a solution, “y’can just share my blanket if you want pet.” Y/N’s tummy flips, but the blank stare she gives him as she runs through all the repercussions (good and bad) coming from her doing that, comes off more as confusion. Did he forget that Jeff didn’t know about the kiss?
Harry sits uncomfortably in the silence. “Or not, whatever you want.” Silence again, and with each passing second, Harry’s facial expression becomes more and more exasperated.
Mitch is smirking, giving Harry a knowing glance. Sarah is looking at Mitch confused, obviously trying to figure out her boyfriend's cryptic facial expression. Jeff was the most bewildered of all, clearly completely lost.
“Fine, fuckin’ forget it. Y’can share a blanket with Jeff ‘Mcvomit’ Aezzof. Or maybe you can jack Mitch off under the blanket with Sarah, and all of us will pretend we don’t know. How bout that hm?” Harry knows he’s being slightly unfair to all those just mentioned.
A month ago, during a game night, Jeff had consumed slightly too much alcohol and subsequently vomited all over the living room carpet and Harry’s rainbow Gucci boots. Safe to say, Harry was not impressed and hadn’t let Jeff forget it either.
He also knows he’s being unfair to Sarah and Mitch, although, he’s not exactly wrong. Harry had no proof anything was happening under Sarah’s unicorn blanket but they always sat suspiciously close, and some strange movements had definitely been observed during movie nights, particularly when the crew had binged ‘50 Shades of Grey.’
No one had mentioned it to each other, until one night, Y/N had tried to subtly ask Jeff and Harry if they had noticed too. The two boys immediately agreed, admitting they both had their own suspicions. However, this was the first time anyone had brought it up with the couple in question.
He’s instantly met with outcry from both Sarah and Mitch.
“Oh for fucks sake H.”
“You’re so crude.”
“We do not do that.”
Jeff also looks unamused, mumbling under his breath, although the shouts from the couple drown his reply out, “you have too much to drink one time, and no one lets you forget it.”
But Y/N, in true Y/N style laughs, and all of a sudden Harry doesn’t feel nearly as bad for his accusations or his teasing of Jeff. “Alright bug, alright. You made your point, scoot over.”
Y/N settles under the blanket with Harry, tucking her legs underneath her, trying to maintain a healthy distance from him. She hadn’t really been so consciously close to Harry before, only ever being asleep, drunk or… busy. Y/N noticed his signature scent was present, a warm cedarwood cologne that somehow made her nostrils tickle and insides feel slightly warmer, like a shot of whiskey travelling down her throat and spreading through her tummy.
Maybe it was the man the smell lingered to that made her feel so comfortable and warm, or perhaps it was the blanket and heat radiating from him, but either way, Y/N loved it. She revelled in the comfort and feeling of safety that she didn’t often bask in, and it was Harry of all people who made her feel like this.
She briefly wonders what this movie night would entail. She was happy they were already close to each other, stealing glances. Each bout of eye contact bringing a tingle through her spine, a shiver wracking through her shoulders when she noticed him glancing at her with his signature smirk and bright look.
She was aware that they were slowly moving closer to each other with each passing second of the film playing in front of them. When she had initially sat down next to Harry, she could feel the warmth radiating from him, but now she could feel his side pressed against her, and his leg slightly crossed over hers.
If she’s honest, she was much more focused on the handsome individual sitting next to her than on the movie anyway, and consequently, she missed the first twenty minutes.
What she cannot miss, however, is Harry’s hand coming to rest gently on her thigh. His palm flat against the plush flesh and his nails lightly scratching at the skin lying over it.
She looks over at him, his strong jaw and cheekbone highlighted by the dim light of the TV screen, his nose slightly pointed at the end and his long eyelashes fluttering against his skin. She watches as his pink lips tug upwards, bringing a smirk and deep dimple to his handsome face. With that smile, she realises he knows she’s looking at him, and probably knows the effect his touch is having on her. The only acknowledgement she receives is a small squeeze of her thigh.
She can’t help but scoff, his lax attitude directly opposed her own, if she was honest, she often felt on a different plane than him. Y/N tried to deny it, but she could be highly strung. When she was in a situation where she felt comfortable and safe, she was easygoing, a delight to get along with, and was often confused as someone who was undoubtedly more affable than she really was.
It was one of the first days of year ten at school when Y/N had experienced her first panic attack. She can still remember the way her hands shook like healthy green leaves in a summer storm, could never forget the tightness in her chest, the closing feeling of her throat, and the tears that blinded her. While the panic attacks had become less frequent as she aged, the underlying symptoms that bubbled into the panic she experienced still tended to rear their ugly heads.
Harry, on the other hand, seemed endlessly relaxed. While Y/N had initially only seen a more uptight and priggish side of him, it was almost like he enjoyed those negative interactions between them, for the sole reason that he could skillfully get under Y/N’s skin, watch her squirm and burn red. Any other time she witnessed Harry he was almost always equanimous and the voice of reason in the odd little group that found themselves quarantining together.
He was so comfortable, seemingly so unaffected by her, while she felt his presence made her head spin and heart race.
He leans closer to her, his curls tickling her collarbone, “are you watchin’ the film?”
She nods, the action sending a wave of her perfume to invade his nose, the smell somehow so addicting and familiar to Harry now. “Yeh, the sad part is coming soon, though.”
It’s his turn to scoff, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cry on me.”
Y/N looks up at him, watching as his bunny-like front teeth capture his bottom lip, “and what if I do, hm?”
Harry’s first thought is to say he’d get her some tissues and embrace her until the tears seeped into her sullen soaked skin, but he knows that’s even too corny for him. Instead, he looks around the room to find everyone too focused on the movie to pay attention to them, and chuckles lightly, kissing the top of her cheekbone. “Might cry with you love. Poor Bambi, never knew what was comin’.”
While Y/N looks around the room, she quickly relaxes as she realises no one was paying enough attention to notice Harry’s affectionate action. She stifles a laugh, “we’re in this together then, aren’t we?”
Harry can’t help but feel like she’s not just referring to a sad Disney movie, but instead the situation they had found themselves in. It was confusing, both of them not entirely over their exes, but both seemingly enamoured with the other, something that felt like it had happened overnight.
He didn’t know if she felt the same way he did. He simultaneously wanted to fuck the shit out of her and cuddle with her on the couch, for god's sake he wanted to comfort her when she was crying over fucking ‘Bambi.’ Harry was confused.
He hasn’t felt like this about anyone since Elle, and while Y/N hadn’t spoken about her ex with Harry directly, he had overheard a few snippets of conversation between Sarah and herself.
Before Y/N had come to stay with the group, Sarah had briefly explained the situation, the fact she had put all her effort into a three-year relationship that had ended brutally, with the asshole showing no remorse towards Y/N or her feelings. Harry didn’t want to push her or himself, but he felt a draw towards her that he couldn’t ignore.
The way she placed her hand gently on top of his, still laying on her thigh, and tangled their fingers together made his heart swell, and it was at that moment he decided he didn’t care about Elle. For the first time since they broke up, Harry didn’t wish the person he was with was his cheery faced ex-girlfriend. He wanted Y/N, and he hoped with all his heart, she wanted him too.
He looked over at her, her soft skin and red cheeks glowing gently from the light of the TV screen.
Harry’s feelings are only confirmed, when he hears the gunshot sounding through the room from the movie, hears a small sniffle coming from the girl next to him, and feels her fingers tightening around his own. Harry knows that somehow, through everything, he wanted Y/N to be there next to him at the end of it.
——
Harry sat stewing in his feelings as the night progressed, each member of the house slowly abandoning the marathon, opting for the warmth of their beds instead.
If he was honest, Harry was exhausted, but he couldn’t bear to leave Y/N alone. She had waited patiently through everyone else’s choices, sung along with Sarah through ‘The Little Mermaid.’ She had gushed with Mitch over the fantastic visuals in ‘Hercules’ and watched carefully for Harry’s reactions to ‘The Beauty and the Beast,’ squeezing his hand when the last petal fell, and Belle professed her love for the Beast.
Harry didn’t think it was fair that everyone had chosen bed over watching Y/N’s movie, over singing along to ‘Tangled’ with her. Chosen to sleep instead of talking about how good the animation was and squeezing her hand every time Flynn and Rapunzel were close to kissing.
So Harry does the best he can. He listens to how excited she gets through the fighting scenes, does his best to sing along to songs he’d never heard before, and listens to her speak about how mean she thought Mother Gothel was. Each scene, he watches her eyes widen in comical child-like glee, and her cheeks flush as she laughs at Harry’s impersonation of Flynn Rider.
It’s as Mother Gothel is falling out of the window that Harry realises Y/N’s grip on his hand has loosened and that she is resting against his shoulder, asleep. He smiles, bringing his knuckle to brush against her cheek, gently waking her up. As she slightly startles, he kisses her nose, “y’ fell asleep bug.”
She looks surprised, immediately looking to the screen, “oh shoot. Missed my favourite part too.” Harry can’t help but kiss the small pout that graced her lips as she realises this, which she quickly returns. Harry’s lips tingle as she hums in contentment, causing them to pull apart slightly, Harry touching his lips and giggling.
It was all so domestic and sweet, a kiss leading to nothing in particular, and Harry loved it. Revelled in the idea of kissing Y/N for the pure pleasure of feeling her soft lips against his own, and for nothing else. As Y/N speaks her lips brush against his, still flush against each other, “we should get to bed.”
As they both make their way upstairs, hand in hand, they dawdle as if to stall their inevitable parting, and as Y/N prepares to speak their goodbye into existence Harry decides he doesn’t want this night to end. Didn’t want to part from the warmth Y/N provided, to lose the feeling of her face pressed against him or the way her hand felt nestled in his. So Harry does the one thing he can think of, something he may come to regret later,
“Do you want t’ sleep in my bed tonight? You don’ have to if you don’t want to, of course.”
Harry observes Y/N’s face, and he feels as if he goes through the same range of emotions as she does. First surprise, then apprehension, her head tilting as she thinks through her decision.
Harry thinks maybe she’s misinterpreting his intentions. Don’t get him wrong, he would jump at the chance to have sex with someone as lovely as her, but he really just wasn’t ready to leave her. Wanted to feel her asleep in his arms, hear the small snores he’s sure she would make and brush her hair away from her face when it looked to be tickling her in the middle of the night.
“No funny business dove, I promise.”
Finally, a small smirk graces the young girl's face, her top teeth hooking into her lower lip, a little giggle erupting from her mouth while she nods her head.
Harry’s face subconsciously matches Y/N’s, a replica giggle floating through his mouth and into the air between them, “yeh?”
She nods once again, “yeh.” Harry feels nothing but relief, a giddy bubbling feeling erupting from his chest, rushing through to his fingertips. He almost believes she feels the exact same burst of emotion when she squeezes his hand as he pulls her into his bedroom.
It smells the same as the last time she was in his room, except this time, there was a sense of certainty in the air. While Y/N had previously tiptoed into his private space, terrified of crossing a line both physically and metaphorically, she no longer felt that same apprehension.
She entered the room with confident footsteps, aware that they had already entered a territory in which they would struggle to backtrack from. Aware that Harry would more than likely revel in the fact she was in a space he considered sacred, rather than feel uneasy.
She was correct in her assumption. He watches the way she looks perfectly placed in a room he previously hated anyone else entering, her energy already matching his own, but somehow adding an exuberant light into a space that, before her, had represented his despondency.
Harry begins getting ready for bed, takes off his pants and shirt, left in only boxers. As the cotton of his top slides over his mass of curls, he catches Y/N staring, her mouth slightly parted, pupils dilated and cheeks pink.
The cocky boy smirks slightly, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion ever so subtly, and a gust of wind passing through his nose as a form of laughter. “Would you prefer me to keep my pants on babe?”
His cheeky tone works to bring Y/N from her stupor. She stumbles over her words, clearly embarrassed Harry had caught her ogling at his body, again. “Uh.. no, no whatever’s comfortable, I guess. Do you want to keep your pants on? You can, of course, I just…”
“Teasing Y/N,” his smirk grows into a grin, his dimple flashing her once again, “I’m only teasing.” She visibly relaxes, her shoulders returning to the normal position, and her eyes closed, trying to shake the remaining embarrassment from her system.
“You are the worst.”
He only laughs, “and you take yourself too seriously. Now, do you want a shirt to sleep in?”
While Y/N might usually be offended by him saying something like that, she knows he’s not wrong. In fact, he’s entirely correct. He just knew exactly how to wind her up, what buttons to push to make a flush rise to her cheeks and for her sentences to become stuttered.
“That would be nice, thank you.”
Harry only nods, walking over to the dresser in the corner and rummaging through, pulling out a white shirt with the phrase “enjoy health, eat your honey” on the front. He holds it up in front of his body, waiting for Y/N’s approval, which he quickly receives, throwing it over to her in response.
She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to give her the courtesy of changing in private. “Do y’ mind, you lecher?”
He startles, “oh uh sorry.” Y/N watches as a blush spreads from his cheeks to his neck, a clear sign of his humiliation, and he quickly turns around.
She changes, giving a soft cough when it’s safe for him to turn around. Harry can hardly believe his eyes, he knew she was beautiful, but fucking hell, it was like an angel had been sent to him from heaven.
Her legs were soft, and Harry wanted nothing more than to trail kisses up her thighs, past the dotting of stretch marks, patches of missed hair, and the hem of the shirt that sat loosely against her. He could see her nipples poking through the fabric, firm, surrounded by supple flesh, that Harry had trouble to stop imagining. Her face was soft, a pleasant but embarrassed smile pulling along half her face, smoothed by the leftover makeup she hadn’t bothered to remove.
She was fucking beautiful.
“Stop looking at me like that you…”
“Lecher. I know. It’s hard not to be when you look like that.” Her cheeks turn an even darker shade of crimson, and her eyebrows draw up in surprise. Harry didn’t know at what, she was his very own wet dream, and he had trouble imagining that she didn’t know that.
Unsure of what to say she patters towards the bed, lifting the covers and lying beneath them, facing the side he usually slept on, waiting for Harry to lay in her line of sight. He does, his cheek getting gently squished against the silk pillow, his hair billowing out from his head, creating an unruly mess around his face.
“I don’t…” she sighs, clearly struggling to string together whatever was going through her mind. Harry grabs the hand laying between them, and gives it a gentle squeeze of encouragement. He had been vulnerable in front of her weeks before they had even shown interest in each other, and he wanted to give her the same comfortable space to talk through what she was feeling.
She lets out another breath and continues, “I like when you call me beautiful. I just don’t know how to respond, I’m not all that used to it.” She snorts despite herself, “isn’t that sad?” While she’s laughing, Harry can see the sadness set behind her eyes, and so he doesn’t laugh. Only squeezes her hand once more and replies as steadily as he can, “it’s not sad. I understand.”
Her laugh turns more genuine, “oh so even the Greek god gets self-conscious? Thank god for that.” He quickly matches her jesting tone, “for sure, need to be humbled somehow.” He pulls her closer and rests his head in the crook of her neck, listening as the giggles she emits, vibrate through her body, and he can’t help but smile too.
He was happy and at peace. And for the first time in a long time, both he and Y/N slept through the night, relief and giddiness seeping through their pores.
——
Harry awoke in a daze. His arm was numb, his head slightly dizzy and body just a tad too hot. Then he sees Y/N asleep in front of him, head resting on his bicep, hair a mess, and her hand resting on his, placed on the pillow in front of her face, and all of a sudden none of it mattered.
She was beautiful. It makes Harry wonder about the last time they’d woken up together. He remembers feeling scared, denying any comfort he had found within her in his arms, and he wonders if his subconscious had always known she was right for him.
They seemed to fit together so seamlessly, for a couple who couldn’t stand the sight of each other months prior.
Harry uses his free hand to sweep her hair away from her neck, leaving a space for him to press his lips against. Her skin was warm, slightly tacky from sweat, and he breathed her in, dragging his nose up and down the nape of her neck.
He hears her begin to wake, repositioning her legs under the covers and her breath beginning to quicken from the lull of sleep. A small hum of contentment leaves her lips as she feels Harry’s mouth kissing on her skin.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” he whispers, his breath tickling her. She lets out a laugh, her voice heavy with drowsiness, “morning H.”
The hand that was already resting loosely in his tightens as she loops their fingers together, “how’d you sleep?”
He squeezes back, “better than I have in months. What ‘bout you?”
She leans further back into him and exhales, “so good.” Harry hears the relief in her voice, and he feels it too. Was this all it took to stop his own self wallowing? Being pressed against her? It was like she brought her own kind of calmness to his unstable mind, and while he knew she would disagree with him in saying it, she was a source of purity, a way for him to feel carefree.
He wanted to tell her, but something was stopping him. What if she wasn’t quite as committed to whatever they were as he was? Harry had never been good with his feelings, preferring to write his emotions into his music. Fuck, sometimes even selling his songs to others to avoid the message coming from his own mouth directly.
But as Y/N turns around, her mouth inches from his, her eyes wide and doe-like, Harry thinks he’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t tell her how he felt. The words creep up his throat, and he tastes them on his tongue, sweet and rich. “I... I really like you. I’m not sure how you feel about everything. I just know I haven’t felt like this since… well for a while, and that’s kind of scary.”
Harry closes his eyes, not wanting to see Y/N laugh in his face, as well as hear it. Instead, he feels a soft hand on the side of his face, her thumb gently brushing against his temple, and then softly against his eyelid, coming to rest just below it. “Open your eyes, dummy.”
He flutters his eyes open, met with Y/N’s gaze, revering and sweet, “I like you too, Harry. Thought I made it pretty obvious.” While Harry loved Y/N calling him ‘H,’ the slow drawl of ‘Harry’ made a shiver roll up his spine.
He can hardly contain the smile that slips upon his mouth, leaning up slightly and kissing the thumb resting against his skin. Harry feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest, the relief freeing the worry from his lungs, his muscles finally relaxing, no longer having to uphold the weight of stress upon them.
If he was candid, Harry had never had to fight for anyone’s affection before. As narcissistic as it sounded, people usually gravitated towards him, whether for the right or wrong intentions. But Y/N had stood her ground, immediately unimpressed by his blase and borderline rude attitude and had reverberated his energy right back at him. If Harry was honest, at first he hated that about her, but it had come to represent her honesty. It made the affection she showed him now that much more special.
Harry felt as if he had earnt her respect and affection, because he deserved it, not the ‘Harry Styles’ found in the tabloids. He had found someone who made him feel like a real person, and a good one at that, someone who deserved the love she so readily gave him. Harry was lucky enough to be lying next to that someone.
“You’re right… you did drool over me in the shower. Remember that?” And just like that, the moment of vulnerability is over.
Y/N lightly slaps Harry’s arm and lets out a disgruntled sound, “aish, you really are a lecher.” He laughs and grabs the hand that just hit him, bringing it back up to his face and kisses her palm gently. He looks back at her face, all traces of aggravation wiped from it like cheap lipstick, replaced with contentment instead. She slips her hand back to the side of his neck, her fingertips trailing through the baby hairs laying against his skin and kisses him. Her lips feel slightly chapped but still so warm, and Harry let’s out a relieved exhale.
He couldn’t explain why, but this kiss felt different from any other he’d experienced with Y/N, hell any other he’d shared with anyone. It had all the intensity and lust of their kiss in the kitchen, added with a sense of emotion that Harry couldn’t quite place. Each press of her mouth, each swipe of her tongue or gentle nibble of his lower lip felt like she was desperately trying to convey every feeling Harry previously doubted existed.
Harry remembers the night of their first kiss, recalls thinking he had never felt lust like that before, never wanted to kiss someone so badly, but now laying in this bed with Y/N running her hand through his hair and her hips lightly bucking towards him, Harry feels as if he’s surpassed the way he had felt then.
He feels pure unadulterated need flowing through his veins, can’t even begin to explain how much he wanted Y/N. She turned to fully face him, tangling their feet together and pressing herself further into the kiss. Harry wishes he could give her more, wants to bring every drop of pleasure to her he possibly could, wants to touch and kiss each part of her. It felt as if a spark had lit within his body, beginning at his chest, travelling all the way through to his fingertips, and straight to his groin.
Harry brings his thigh between her legs, and she takes advantage of it instantly, rubbing against him. He groans as he feels her warmth pressed against his leg, and he can tell she is suppressing her moans of pleasure as she pushes down harder with each gyration of her hips.
“Tha’s it baby, get what you need.”
At this, she leans her head back, a mewl erupting from her throat. Harry kisses down her exposed neck, sucking and nipping a love bite into the skin below him. Bringing his hands to her waist lightly, he helps to guide her in grinding against the thick muscle of his leg.
She grabs one of his hands grappling at her hip and brings it to her chest, where he feels her hard nipple poking through the thin material of her top. He squeezes and pinches gently, hearing her breath hitch directly in his ear, bringing goosebumps to the skin along his arms, her hands grabbing his broad shoulders and neck.
With his other hand, he slowly slips his thumb past the hem of her sweatpants, running it along the soft skin there. The tickling sensation completely contradicts the harsh action of her hips rubbing against him, causing a shiver to trickle down her spine. Y/N whines into his ear so quietly, Harry wonders if he actually heard her at all. “Please.”
“What do you need, hm? Tell me.”
A bated breath parts her lips, “fuck…anything.” She knows it’s not enough, knows Harry wants to hear exactly what she wants from him, but she’s embarrassed. Isn’t quite used to anyone asking her what she wanted and needed, and Harry’s filthy tongue only brings her more unnecessary shame.
“C’mon Y/N, use your words. I’ll give you whatever you want, just use your word’s for me.”
Her hands dig into his shoulders, “fingers, please!”
He kisses her temple and murmurs a quick, “good girl,” before dipping his hand completely into the front of her pants, still only teasing along the line of her underwear.
Y/N’s not sure how much she can take. Every move, every touch is goading and light, clearly trying to provoke her, and as much as she loves it, she needs relief. She grabs at his arm that is currently so close to the place she needs him to be and tries to force it closer to her, harder against her, anything other than what he’s doing now. “Harry… c’mon, please,” she all but cries.
He chuckles before slipping into her underwear, feeling her wet heat against his fingertips, she was already dripping for him before he’d even touched her. He presses her clit gently while he kisses against her neck, flicking his tongue against the ghost of the hickey he had given her earlier, the pain mixing so deliciously with the pleasure.
While he had stopped his teasing touches, it didn’t stop him from using his teasing words.
“This the first time you’ve gotten so wet for me, pet?” She furrows her eyebrows, shaking her head side to side, attempting to hide her face into his neck. He feigns surprise, “no? Filthy girl. Ever touched yourself thinking about me?” She whines, picking up on his teasing, further burrowing her face away from him, trying to hide the very obvious flush that had risen to her cheeks.
He laughs, nudging her head with his nose, trying to encourage her to show her face again. She mewls once more, the only indication she heard him was the bucking of her hips against his fingers, now inside of her and stroking against her g-spot.
“Next time, just ask for my help instead,” he murmurs into her ear, biting at her earlobe. She hisses, attempting to press against him even harder, get even closer to him, although it was almost impossible, being pressed flush against each other with his fingers knuckle deep in her cunt.
He licks against her jaw, feeling the strong bone under the tender flesh, the warmth of his breath blowing against the damp skin of her neck causes her to shiver, “can I taste you?” Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever nodded her head harder, her eyes rolling back into her head, merely thinking about Harry tonguing the sensitive skin between her legs.
He continues to kiss down her neck, taking extra time to lick against the dip in her collarbones, revelling in the tangy taste of sweat invading his mouth. He sucks her nipples through her shirt, the material clearly wet and spit-soaked once he pulls away, the air surrounding them, making the outline of her areola obvious.
He presses a few chaste kisses against the swell of her tummy, finally reaching where she needed him most. He slowly pulls her pants down her legs, trailing the hem with pecks against each inch of newly exposed skin. Grabbing each ankle, he pulls the cuffing over her feet, playfully biting at the bone on her ankle, causing a shriek and a giggle to erupt from her and a playful press against his cheek, imitating a kick to his jaw.
He laughs, batting her foot away from his face. “Oi don’t damage the money-maker!”
Y/N bursts out laughing, shaking her head. He was an idiot, but she loved that they can switch between moods so quickly. While she’s still laughing, he’s pushing her legs apart, his hand nearly fitting over the whole surface of her inner thigh. “C’mon love, spread your legs fo’ me.”
And with that, Y/N stops laughing.
While continuing to push against her leg, he presses an open mouth kiss against the front of her underwear, already able to taste the heady flavour. Harry can’t help but let out a deep groan, every nerve ending set alight at his mouth finally around her cunt. The tip of Y/N’s tongue tingles with a beg for him to take off her underwear, but Harry acts on his own accord, almost ripping the garment off in his haste.
If Harry thought the taste of her was mouthwatering through the cotton, the taste of her without it was even better.
He had meant to tease her, he really had, but he can’t help but lick straight into her weeping hole, moaning at the taste and the smooth feeling of her smeared against his mouth. Spreading her lips with his pointer and ring finger, Harry continues to explore, flicking his tongue against the swollen bud underneath her pubic bone, causing a loud moan to erupt from her mouth.
“Holy fuck Harry! Feels so good.”
Harry tucks two of his fingers into her while sucking at her clit, Y/N tugging at his curls harshly in response.
It feels so good, but Y/N needs more. The feeling of Harry’s fingers is making her skin tingle, and her legs shake, but she wants nothing more than to be stretched out by him. She wants him to give her everything, push into her slowly, stretch her pussy, and finally feel his cum spurting into her.
So she pulls him up, one hand still intertwined in his hair and the other on his shoulder, scratching and pulling as a hint to bring his mouth to hers. At first, he’s hesitant, grumbling slightly in annoyance, not wanting to part from her, “Harry please, want to kiss you.”
He gives her one more harsh suck, before sliding back up her body, where Y/N is waiting with her mouth open and her eyes on him. Harry smirks, slipping the two fingers that had just been inside of her against her tongue, feeling more blood rushing between his legs at the feeling of her licking and sucking them as if it were his cock.
She bites gently, causing a hiss to escape from his mouth as he drags them back out slowly, quickly replacing his fingers with his lips, licking into her mouth.
The tangy taste of her own cum slips past her tastebuds again, and Y/N had never been one to find it hot, but with the salty flavour transferring from Harry’s fingers and tongue, she’d never been more attracted to her own taste.
Y/N desperately wants to mix his cum with hers, wants to swallow around his cock and feel the intoxicating mixture slide down her throat, “I wanna taste you now.”
He breathes through his nose heavily and shakes his head, “just want to feel you. ‘M not gonna last long if you suck me off as well.” Y/N whines, but by the longing look Harry gives her pouting lips, it seems he’s not entirely content with his decision either.
He reaches over her shoulder, digging into the set of drawers next to the bed, giving Y/N the perfect view of his broad chest, littered with tattoos. He looks so tan, his muscles rippling under the smooth skin, and she wants nothing more than to litter it with love bites and scratches. She teasingly licks at his nipple, and he startles, an uncharacteristic giggle leaving his lips as he comes back to lie in front of her, in his hand a condom.
Suddenly his eyes clear, the lust caused fog fading, “you still okay with this? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Her heart swells, how was it possible that this Adonis-like man was also so sweet? There was nothing she wanted more than to be with Harry in every way and right now, she needed him inside of her, “yes Harry. Do you?”
He scoffs some, “fuck yes,” he mumbles his next statement as he tucks his head under her jaw, putting the condom on at the same time, “feel like my dicks gonna fall off, I’m that hard.”
She laughs, wrapping her arms around him, she’d never felt so happy and complete, so overwhelmed. Every positive emotion was combining within her, creating a whirlwind of passion and love, causing each feeling to increase tenfold.
The head of Harry’s cock slips through her folds, sending a zap of pleasure through her each time it nudges her clit, and he smirks each time she twitches, unconsciously arching up towards him. “Y’ ready?”
She nods, moving her hips closer, making her own attempt to be filled by him.
Slowly, Harry enters her, each inch causing the delicious burn from him stretching her walls increasing. Y/N almost chokes on her own moans, can hardly stand how good he feels or the way her muscles spasm attempting to adjust to the intrusion. It feels as if each ridge and curve was being simulated, each nerve ending firing again and making her head feel dizzy.
Harry almost looks like he’s in pain with his eyes shut so tightly, Y/N can see the wrinkles surrounding them. His mouth is parted with sharp breaths entering and leaving his mouth, his head hung back, and his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.
“Holy fuck. You feel so fucking good.”
At the sound of his voice, Y/N clenches, making Harry cry out. “Move H. Fuck me, please.”
He begins slowly, pulling out before slamming back into her, reaching so far Y/N can feel him in her tummy.
He intertwines their fingers and holds them against the pillow her head rests on. She squeezes them, and he leans his forehead against hers, the tender action contradicting the harsh snaps of his hips. “How do you feel so good?” He whimpers. She nudges his chin with her nose, pushing his lips closer to hers, each thrust smearing them closer together.
“You’re so good to me H,” she whispers back as she wraps one of her hands behind his head, his neck in the crook of her elbow. Using leverage from her other hand against the bed, she pushes her hips upwards, creating double the amount of friction between them. The actions causing both of them to cry out, Harry seeming to be pushed impossibly further inside of her, the head of him nudging against her cervix.
“Fuck that’s it. Look at you, usin’ me to get yourself off.”
While the new angle felt so good, it was quickly tiring. Harry could see Y/N fatiguing after a few minutes, knowing the burn in her legs would be almost unbearable at this point. So he tucks his arms under her outstretched ones, laying his torso against hers and tucking his head into her neck, kissing lightly as he completely slows down his movements. He stops the whine that leaves her throat with a quick, “shh, it’s okay. Just wanna take my time with you, never want this to end.”
While running her hand through his curls and holding the back of his neck closer to her chest, she replies, “me either baby.”
They spend some time like this, just enjoying each other’s company and the feel of being so close to one another. Y/N breathes deeply, the smell of sex in the room mixing with Harry’s cologne, making her relax and let out a contented sigh. She had never felt more full and so satisfied, with a hint of an orgasm sparking between her hip bones, the dull ember just waiting to be fully ignited by his movements.
As if sensing this, he speeds up once again. The burn that stretches through her legs as Harry pulls them over his shoulders, mixes with the pleasure of his thrusts, the head of his cock nudging her g-spot with each deep drive of his hips.
Y/N cries out, grabbing at his shoulders, her nails unintentionally digging into the skin, creating small red crescents along the tense muscles connecting his neck to his scapula.
He just feels so good. Every movement of his hips, each inhale and exhale, each brush of their lips and dig of his fingers brings Y/N even closer to her orgasm. She can’t tell if Harry plans each of these things with her pleasure in regard or if it’s the chemistry between them that’s causing every sensation to be felt tenfold. All she knows is that she would happily lie under Harry for the rest of her life if it meant she always felt this weightless.
Harry’s balls make a sharp ‘thwack’ against her ass each time he thrusts, the sound of her arousal echoing through the room, in such a crude fashion, Y/N almost has time to feel embarrassed. On the other hand, Harry revels in the sound, loves the fact he can see, hear, touch every part of her arousal, surrounding them in their own cocoon of sex and pleasure.
“C’mon Y/N, please. Cum on my cock.” While Y/N had already been feeling the building pressure of her impending orgasm, Harry’s words only work to bring it faster. “Please Y/N,” she bucks up against him, chasing the feeling of his pubic bone rubbing against her already sensitive clit. “Good girl. Fuck, you’re my good fucking girl, aren’t you?” She whines a response, the noise high pitched and hoarse. Harry sees Y/N’s desperate search for her finish, and brings two fingers down, rubbing at her clit.
“Fuck, yes, Harry!” Y/N can’t describe how overwhelmed she is with pleasure and feeling. Her face feels flushed and sticky with sweat, her legs are slightly cramped from her constant strain to get closer to Harry and his cock buried in her cunt, and when Harry brings one of his ring adorned hands to wrap comfortably around her neck, suddenly Y/N feels weightless. She feels the burst of pleasure from between her legs, a zip running up her spine, leaving her limbs with a tingle.
Harry hears her cum before he sees it, the moans dripping from her mouth, her eyes widening before she’s squeezing them tightly together. Harry knew he would play that exact moment on replay for the rest of his fucking life.
He watches as she brings her hand up to his that’s still spread around her neck, and Harry almost can’t stand it when he feels her squeezing it tighter, begging for Harry to give her more. If he wasn’t so close to cumming, Harry might’ve teased her, loosened his grip on purpose to watch her squirm and whine, whisper in her ear how hot it was to see how desperate she was for Harry to simply touch her, alas he’s too close. Can barely form a coherent thought, let alone tease her. So instead he appeases her, tightens his grips and begins to pound into her harder, searching for his own release.
Finally, it comes, Harry releasing a deep groan, grabbing onto the pillow next to her head, letting out a deep moan. Both of them can feel each rope of cum, as Y/N’s own orgasm works to milk each drop from him.
His movements slowly come to a stop, leaving him tucked inside of her as his length softens. Wrapping his arms around her once again, he revels in the warmth and comfort she brings, his lips pressing against hers gently. “Fuckin’ hell.”
Y/N giggles and nods in agreement. How had they spent so long fighting when this was the result of them getting along. She still feels Harry shifting above her, the aftershocks of her orgasm, creating an increase in sensitivity, each movement from the handsome boy above her sending a jolt through her whole body.
“Fuck you’re still squeezin’ me pet.” She hugs into him tighter as yet another twitch is brought from his prick still buried deep within her, “mhm, still sensitive but you feel so good.”
He kisses her soft temple, “lucky for you, in about fifteen minutes, we can go again.” Y/N scoffs, her head leaving the crook of his neck to give him a dirty look only to be met with his deep smirk. His famous dimples indented next to his smile, as he giggles and brushes his nose against the swell of her cheek.
“You really are…” his giggle is joined by her own.
“A lecher,” they finish together.
#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfiction#harry#harry styles writing#writing#thank god this is finally finished#holy shit#let me know what you think#i love u#harries
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Little Cherry Book:
Chapter 4:Showered in Sin
Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here
Hey guys! I'm sorry that it has taken so long for me to update this. I had an idea of what I was going to write but I had a super hectic week so I wasn't able to write this till now. In order to make up for it, I have given you a treat. A 6,502 word chapter. It kinda beat my ass but I had so much fun writing it. It's sweet, it's spicy, it's all the goodness you guys deserve. I was listening to Duvet by Boa while writing this and I think you should too for two reasons. One, it helps set the mood, but also oh my fucking god it's such a good song. Also, Boa is just a fucking great band. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and message me if you would like to be added to the tag list! Love you guys
Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader
Chapter Plot: After a game of drunk never have I ever after a long case, Morgan locks Spencer out of their shared room. Shenanigans ensue and you and Spencer share a couple of firsts.
Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on
Chapter TW: smut, slight mommy kink, having body piercings, choking, slight blood kink (not really, it's just hard to explain), Shared masturbation (male and female receiving), pleading, multiple orgasms, cumming in pants, shower sexiness, aftercare
Word Count: 6,502
Your deep cherry lipstick painted the white seal of the wine bottle you held in your hand as you laughed at something Elle said. Spencer couldn't help but let a small smile pass his lips as he took in your form, hot from the day's work, small strands of your hair sticking to your forehead, a dewy glow illuminating your rosy cheeks.
After a long week, they had found Carl Arnold before he had been able to kill the Dunken family and even coerced a confession out of him. With spirits running high, Elle had suggested some much-needed relaxation before taking off the next day. Since you were rooming alone, you volunteered to host in your room. Morgan had arrived at your hotel room with two bottles of some sort of liquor, one clear and one amber, JJ trailing in toe with your bottle of red wine you had asked for. You pulled out your little corkscrew with the face of an old man on it, knowing she hated his weird little face. You brought it with you on trips, just in case the occasion arose.
And it did arise as Elle suggested a drinking game. Hotch had retired early after calling Hailey to get an update on his very pregnant wife, while Gideon preferred the solitude of a good book late at night. The rest of you sat on the floor surrounded by drinks and snacks. With the supervision gone, it almost felt like a high school party with no parents. You all had all settled on a classic, never have I ever. "We haven't played this in a long time because we already know so much about each other, but it's fun when we have a newbie around," Morgan said giving you a cheeky smile and bumping your shoulder. Already pliable after the couple of drinks you had while Elle explained the game, you nodded before tipping your lips to the cusp of Spencer's ear. "I'll try not to make it too hard for you, pretty boy," you said. The small puffs of air that left your mouth made Spencer's hair stand on end and his feet curl.
He knew you were teasing him that night and he loved it. He decided to keep his knees tucked to his chest for the rest of the night as to not expose the predicament in his pants. He watched the way you lightly sucked on the wine bottle as you tipped it back, a thin river of cabernet leaking from the corner of your lips and trailing down your neck. Spencer wanted nothing more than to lean over and lap it off of you just to see how you would react, but he knew it was the drinks talking. Despite your earlier comment, it was quite obvious that you were targeting him as his head started to spin gently.
"Never have I ever had sex with someone much older than me," Garcia said through her video feed with a cheeky smirk. Derek had insisted on including her even though she wasn't physically present. She sat bundled up in a comfy blanket in her office with a mug of some sort of alcoholic beverage. "HEY! No targeting! Plus, I told you that in confidence at ladies night. How much is much older?" You said, swaying your bottle towards the computer set up on the floor."You know how much older I mean sweetheart." Garcia said with a giggle as you groaned and took a sip."How much older is much older?" Morgan said with a cocked eyebrow, somewhere between impressed and surprised." I was a college student, experimenting with my professor. Not like an old man, but he was 20 years older than me. Definitely not my style anymore though." You said with a grimace remembering him.
Spencer had learned a lot about your sex life during that game, but some part inside of him smirked, knowing that the rest of the team would never know you as he knew you, not unless they too had read your journal. It was the only thing keeping his head clear of the idea of you with anyone else. Not that you were with him in any capacity, but the idea still made him feel something in his stomach. Not the sweet butterflies that came with your smile, but something more like idiotic hornets dangerously bumping against the walls of his stomach.
Spencer hadn't even noticed the uproar of everyone else around the circle at your comment and the second revelation that Morgan had drunk too. He was too busy watching how you had shyly tucked your hair behind your ear, finally letting it down out of your clips for once. You were wearing your pajamas, just a tank top, slouchy sweater, and flannel pajama pants, but somehow you looked more radiant than ever. He had come back down to earth after hearing someone call his name."Y-Yes?" He sputtered out, realizing you had been trying to get his attention."It's Morgan's turn, pay attention." You said, gently smacking your hand down on his thigh.
If he was riled up before, he was unbelievably undone at the slight sting from where your palm had just been. Light enough that it wasn't noticeable, but hard enough that it erupted a Shockwave through his body, centered on the location of the contact. He bit back the whimper threatening to escape his lips as he turned towards Morgan, trying desperately to not watch you from the corner of his eye.
"Never have I been a virgin at 24," Morgan said, beaming in his direction. Spencer took a big gulp from his glass of whiskey."You always do that one, I don't know why you think it's so funny, you're just trying to get me to drink" he said abashedly. He looked over at you, nervous for your reaction, but you seemed unfazed. "Hey, that's a wonderful gift to have, there's something so special about virgins. Maybe it's the idea that everything is new, but I like it. I love virgins." You said, taking a sip from your bottle, gently swaying. You had given up on never have I ever and just decided to drink whenever you felt like it. Maybe it was because you were tipsy, maybe it was the warm flush that decorated Spencer's cheeks, maybe it was the way he was looking at you with sultry, half-lidded eyes. You couldn't tell, but something made you want to find an excuse for you two to be alone.
"Geese, we seemed to have caught a succubus tonight." Morgan quipped."A suck-you-what now?" You said, cocking an eyebrow at him. " A succubus, it's a demon or supernatural entity in folklore, in female form, that appears in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity. According to religious traditions, repeated sexual activity with a succubus can cause poor physical or mental health, even death. In modern representations, a succubus is often depicted as a beautiful seductress or enchantress, rather than as demonic or frightening." Spencer shot out. "Wow, even when you're drunk, your big brain keeps chuggin' along," you said, sloppily ruffling his hair "A beautiful seductress or enchantress, huh?" That time it came out low, inaudible to the others, but it pierced Spencer like a knife."Do you think that's accurate bout me?" you asked, staring up into his eyes, closer than you have been before. Spencer let a cartoonish gulping noise escape his lips as he held back his urge to lean into your touch.
"Ah, it's my turn," you said, leaning back into your spot in the circle and sadly, away from Spencer." Never have I ever done something naughty at our work," you said, looking straight at Spencer "I'll know if you're lying, I can sniff out a liar from a mile away," your cocky smirk leaking out of your mouth. Everyone except you and JJ took a shot."Wow, really you guys? Even you Spence? " JJ said in disbelief, looking around the circle."Never have I ever, my ass" Spencer mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, looking over at you, thinking about your pantieless escapades.
"Look at that, Doctor Reid, you need another drink, let me go fix you one," You said as you grabbed his glass in one hand, leaning and gripping hard into his shoulder with the other. It wasn't seen by the others, but between that and the fiery look in your eyes, it sent an obvious message,' keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it for you.' You used him as leverage to get up, nearly pushing him over as you gracefully stumbled to the hotel fridge. He knew what you meant, but he didn't care, your grip on him went straight into his imagination as he envisioned what that grip would feel like in other places. He kind of wanted to push his luck, just so he could see what he had in store.
And push it he did as you handed him the glass, reminding him that it was indeed his turn to play never have I ever. "Never have I ever slept with my professor," He said, obviously targeting you with a glint of mischief in his eyes."Oh yeah, well never have I ever been a virgin at 24." You said, swaying as you sat down."Morgan already said that, dummy. Never have I ever worn stupid dark red lipstick" He retorted, equally as drunk as you. At this point everyone else had zoned you two out and were focused on other things, refreshing their drinks, counting the ceiling tiles, humming a sloppy rendition of My My Miss American Pie, or in Penelope's case, all three."Yeah, well never have I ever been a complete and utter mommas boy!" You continued, the statement turning Spencer beet red. You watched him clench and unclench his hands, you had obviously struck a nerve. Just as you were about to apologize, he cut you off. "Never have I ever had nipple piercings!" He shouted, pointing at your chest, now drawing attention to the obvious balls framing your nipples that you had once been covered by your long-forgotten sweater.
As he said it, it felt like the world went in slow motion. You could see the instant regret on his face as you dropped your bottle in surprise. It had landed on Spencers discarded whiskey glass and both shattered, wine and whiskey mixing with glass to create a slurry on the ground between them. "Fuck! You Guys!" Morgan said, "You got it all over my clothes." "Me too," Echoed Elle as they both stood up in their soaked clothes. "I think that calls it a night." JJ said, closing the laptop on the image of an already sleeping Garcia." Bye you guys, sleep well," you called after them as you and Spencer rushed around looking for towels to clean up the alcohol with.
"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Spencer cried as you dropped the last of the glass in the garbage can. As you rounded the corner, you saw Spencer pulling a rather large shard of glass that you must have missed out of his thumb, blood pooling at the tip. Without thinking, you crouched down and sucked his thumb into your mouth." A-ah! What... What are you doing!?" Spencer asked breathlessly, looking down at you with a deep hunger in his eyes. You pop off his thumb and squeeze it at the base, slowing the blood flow."Shut up," You said," This helps slow the bleeding. The sucking applies pressure. My mom used to do this for me... And no, do not psychoanalyze that." You said, wrapping your mouth around his finger, sucking to provide some pressure to slow the blood flow. You could taste the iron in your mouth, but you didn't mind, knowing you were helping your friend.
You were helping alright, helping in more ways than you would ever understand. "Yeah, like I'm the only one here with mommy issues," he said distractedly, too busy surveying your lips wrapped around him. You slapped your hand down on his thigh once more, eliciting a small whimper from him. He couldn't help it, you were a sight of beauty, you always were, but looking down on you right then, Spencer wanted to bottle that moment forever. The tops of your breasts peeking out from the top of your tank top, your eyes filled with a hazy glow, looking up at him to make sure he was ok, and your cheeks hollowing out around his thumb as you delicately sucked on his wound. It was as close as Spencer had ever gotten to anything sexual. He could feel your tongue swirling around the cut, lapping up the last couple drops of blood. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if it was another appendage and not his thumb. You sucked on his thumb one last time, harder than you had previously, and before he even knew what he was doing, his hips bucked up, rubbing his hard cock against his pajama pants, finally relieving his mounting orgasm.
You let go of his finger with a pop as your tongue trailed off of the underside of his thumb. Spencer looked anywhere but you, as a wet patch formed through his thin underwear and pajama pants. He hurried to cover it with his sweater, shooting up from his seated position."Um, Um, I'm g-gonna go shower and go to bed." He said, hurriedly scurrying over to where he had left his room key." Sorry partner, I saw Morgan accidentally grab both of your keys on the way out. He's probably asleep by now." You said languidly, leaning back to take in the sight of the soft boy in front of you. Totally flushed with heat, small beads of sweat peppering his forehead, his hands twiddling suspiciously into his sweater in an attempt to conceal crotch, trying and failing miserably to hide his rapidly cooling cum.
He whined a little, lighting a fire in you. He looked so thoroughly fucked out, and all you had done was suck his finger. You knew that you just had to play with him some more. "You know, you can use my shower, doctor." You said, and he let out a small sigh of relief, heading towards the bathroom. "There is one condition, though," You smirked coyly as he halted his motions, his body facing away from you. It was almost as if he was ready to run away at any moment. You walked over to him, slowly, taking your time to tease him. The silence hung heavy in the air as you looked up into his eyes questioningly, waiting for him to ask. "Wh-what is the condition." He said, unable to return your gaze, hands fisted in the hem of his sweater, pulling it down even further. You smirked, dipping your hands up and under his sweater, nearly brushing his spent cock before gently placing them on his bare stomach, just above his waistband. He sucked in a tight breath as you gently swirled your fingers in the short hair that lead from his belly button down to happier places." Before I ask, do you know about the color scale?" you said, fingers smoothing out over his little stomach." Um, k-kinda?" He said, heat flushing his cheeks."Green means good keep going, yellow means slow down, and red means stop right now, ok?" You said, looking up at him as he nods."Come on pretty boy, I need verbal confirmation. I need to know that you understand, got it." You said with a little pinch to his tummy. "Y-Yes, I understand!" He blurted out, standing stiff as a board." Good boy. Now, for my condition. You can shower if you show me what you're hiding." You said, leaning close enough that if Spencer breathed, your chests would meet each other. "What color, Spencer?" you said, languidly drawing lines up and down his torso with your nails."G-Green, Very green." He sputtered out, finally meeting your eyes."That's what I like to hear, sweet boy." You said before your fingers danced below his waistline, now somewhat crusty from his cum."W-wait!" He says, just as you were about to take him in your hand. You instantly stopped and looked up at him gently."We can stop here baby, it's not a problem." You said, beginning to remove your hand from his pants. He grabbed your hand through his pants, stopping your movement."It-It's not that. I don't want to stop, I just want... well..." He said and looked down shyly. "What do you want baby, anything," You smiled up at him. "Um, I haven't had my first kiss yet and I kinda... Well... I kinda..." He said, shuffling his feet, face beet red. Your eyebrows shot up quickly in surprise before letting out a gentle smile."Do you want a kiss, pretty boy?" You said, gently brushing the hair out of his face. He nodded, and you grabbed his chin, bringing him close. "Use your words, pretty boy. What do you want?" You whispered, breath gently ghosting Spencer's lips as he took you in up close. He could see every little pore and dimple of your skin and every color hidden in the depth of your eyes and he knew he needed to have you.
He shakily leaned forward, lips gently meeting yours, so light that if you hadn't seen his actions, you wouldn't have even known if you had touched. You moved your hand down to his throat, giving a light squeeze."Come on genius, use your words," you said as he whimpered. "Please, can I kiss you, please, please?" He begged, leaning into your touch, pleading for you to squeeze again. His efforts shoot straight to your heart. You indulged him in a kiss, not as spicy as the situation would permit, more of a sweet heat. He came in too hot and heavy at first, but you kissed him languidly, gently stroking his cheek to get him in the rhythm. His arms were straight out at his sides, hands clenched as if he was willing every muscle in his body to not touch you.
You let out a small laugh as you melted into his kiss, soft, puffy lips dancing across yours. "You know you can touch me," You said, pulling back, smiling at the smear of your lipstick, now staining his lips, and the endearing puppy dog eyes he was giving you. "Where can I touch you?" He whispered out as if he were telling a secret. "Wherever you want, baby. Wherever your heart desires." You replied, bringing your arms up to wrap loosely around his neck, pulling your bodies closer. He was as stiff as a board as his hands flitted around trying to find a good place to land. He finally settled on weaving his arms around your waist and up to cradle your neck, gently carding his fingers through the hair that fell at the nape of your neck. There was something so sweet in the way he cradled your body with feather-light touches as if you would disappear like smoke if he lingered too long. You reveled in the feeling of you two pressed together, slightly uncomfortable at the stiff material of his pajama pants on your stomach.
"Hey sweetheart," You said, pulling away as he chased after your lips, "I'm feeling kinda sweaty from the day, would you like to join me in the shower? What color?" "G-green, yes please." He said, tentatively pressing a kiss to your collarbone, exposed as the strap of your tank top had fallen down. You unwound from him, taking his hand delicately in your own, instantly missing the warmth his body provided.
You lead him into the bathroom, carefully stepping over the wine-soaked towels discarded on the floor before shutting the door and turning to face him. "I don't want to take this too fast for you because I know it's all very new so always tell me how you are feeling and if everything is ok. I want this to be good for you baby, ok?" You said, squeezing his hand that was still intertwined with yours. "Ok, th-thank you," He said shyly.
"Now, what do you want to do first? You're probably pretty uncomfortable in those pants, do you want me to take them off you?" You said, hooking one of your fingers into his waistband, pulling on in slightly creating a much-needed separation between his sticky cock and his uncomfortable pants."Y-Yes please" He said as you turned on the shower, allowing it to warm up in preparation for cleaning him off before turning back to him. You gently grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head, leaving him shirtless in front of you.
Lean muscles were hidden under a layer of peachy soft skin highlighting the gentle trail of dark curly hair leading from his belly button down past his pants. His arms curled around himself as he watched your eyes carefully, ready for some sort of judgment. "I know I'm not really that s-strong or anything but I can work on it-" You cut him off with a gentle kiss right above his belly button, startling him. You looked up sweetly into his eyes and gave him a soft smile, saying "You are so beautiful, Spencer. Morgan calls you pretty boy, but he truly has no idea. I would have you no other way than you are right now."
You gently peppered his chest with feather-light kisses, making him blush. He finally understood why people liked hickeys because as you trailed down his chest, the little wine red lipstick you had left on your lips left marks trailing down his chest. Some part of him wished they were permanent, showing off to all that could see, and they would know exactly who he belonged to. You dipped your hand into his waistband, asking, "What color?" "Green, very green," he choked out as your breath ghosted across his abdomen. You looked so beautiful, kneeled on the floor in front of him, taking care of him so gently and treating him so sweetly that he could feel his cock begin to harden again.
You looked up into his eyes as you pulled his pants down. He let out a soft sigh of relief as he was uncaged from his unfortunate trouser situation. His cock flipped down out of his pants, nearly smacking you in the forehead as you looked up at it in awe. Even though it was only semi-hard, it was bigger than any you had ever seen before. Spencer looked down at you shyly "it's not that much, I-I know but I've been researching techniques to make up for it in order to give sufficient pleasure for you- I mean for whatever partners I may have, not that I am saying that I won't please you, I dream of pleasuring you! ... I'm digging myself a hole aren't I."He rambled, rubbing the back of his neck worriedly. "Spencer, you are huge. Way more than I have ever had before. See?" You said, standing up, gently lifting his cock in your hand, measuring it against your stomach.
Maybe Spencer hadn't noticed because it was proportionate to his body and his big hands, but being held in your petite hands and measured against your stomach, he finally did see how much he would fill you up. The tip of his dick just barely reached past the gems that decorated your belly button piercing. "W-Woah." He said growing harder at the thought of pushing so deep into you. He looked up to your face, which was preoccupied with looking down at how far he would reach up in you.
Tearing your eyes away from him and up to his own, you flushed, knowing that he had caught you staring. "What would you like me to do next?" You spoke softly. Despite being the only two in the room, you two both talked in hushed tones, worrying that anything more than that would burst the delicate bubble you two had created. "Can we match?" He said, and you instantly understood him, despite the odd vernacular. You began to slip off your shirt, but he stopped you with an arm on your shoulder. "C-Can I do it?" He said shyly. "Of course, pretty baby," you barely get out before he drifted his hands under your tank.
He slowly lifted your top over your head as he took in the soft smooth feeling of your skin against his, goosebumps pricking up wherever his fingers trailed. You stood in front of him, shirtless as he took in your form. He had imagined what your breasts would look like. Nipples always hard due to your piercings, what your jewelry would look like, but nothing could prepare him for the glimmering moonstone gems that adorned your nipples and navel. Everything matched exactly, including the delicate necklace you wore around your neck.
The only thing he liked more than the perfection of your body was the features that made you, you. Some might call them imperfections, but to Spencer, all he could see in you was beauty. The gentle bruises on your skin from tangles with unsubs, the soft stretch marks that adorned your hips like little valleys and winding rivers, the slight blemishes, and hairs. He loved it because you were the embodiment of the confidence he wished for in himself. While he was always nervous about his body and how others perceived him, you loved yourself for exactly who you were, and you loved him for exactly who he was.
He pulled down your pants, gently following the twist and turn of the stretch marks as they winded down your hips, making sure to kneel down to pull them all the way off of you as you delicately stepped out, gently grabbing onto his hair to keep your balance as you swayed. He moaned softly at the gentle tug of your fingers while he stared up at you in awe. You took his hand in yours, coaxing him to stand.
You both stood there, taking in each other's forms for a moment, hands still connected as if by a thread at the pinky before you spoke. "We shouldn't waste water. Let me clean you off, sweetheart." He nodded before following after you into the gentle spray of the shower, steam now filling the room. He marveled at the way that the water droplets cascaded down your body, gently running down your curves. "Come here," you said, pulling him into a gentle embrace under the hot water.
Your two bodies pressed gently together, and Spencer couldn't help but think that you were molded for each other. Not in the way that a sculptor may stick two unmatched pieces of clay together with slip, more like one rock that had been split by the earth finally returning together. Something about your touch felt like home as you gently cradled him under the water.
He was so enthralled in your being that he didn't notice you gently scrubbing him with a washcloth until the scent of your body wash permeated the air. You gently scrubbed his back, washing off the sweat of the day and replacing it with you. He melted into you as your hands reached up, lathering his hair with shampoo. He wasn't sure if it was because he realized you should probably be getting washed too or because he desperately wanted to ride his hands along the planes of your body, but he decided to lather up his hands and wash you as well. "You are such a good boy. Thank you for cleaning me up" You said, resting your head gently on his chest, softly swirling the soap around his back, now finished scrubbing all you could from that angle, waiting to turn him around.
He moved carefully, avoiding your butt, still too nervous to touch. "Make sure you get everything, sweet boy. I like to be clean when I go to bed." You said, gently grabbing his hand and pulling it down to cup your butt. He inhales a sharp breath as he indulged in a gentle squeeze, continuing to wash you. He washed your back but his hands would occasionally drift down to your ass, growing more confident as he unknowingly rocked into you slightly with every squeeze, letting out soft keening noises.
You peeled yourself off of him as he rutted into the air, whining at the loss of friction. "Slow down, naughty boy. Bad boys don't get to touch. Are you a bad boy?" you asked as you placed a finger on the tip of his cock, swirling it in the precum pooling there despite the water's efforts to wash it off. "No, no! I'm a good boy! You're just so pretty, and you feel so good, and you smell so nice, and I wanna touch you, and I want you to touch me, please." He blurted out, looking at you with hungry eyes, begging for more friction. "Where do you want to touch me baby?" you asked as his eyes raked over your body, taking in all of his options. "I want to touch your boobies and your- your-" "My what? You can say it, naughty boy." You cut him off in his stammering. "Your pussy, I want to touch your pussy." He said, the hot water spreading the blush from his cheeks down his chest, tingeing his cock with a pretty pink hue. "What naughty words from such a pretty boy. You can touch-" he cut you off, lunging towards your body before you grabbed him by the throat, squeezing experimentally. Not too hard, not too soft. He moaned, and you felt the vibrations traveling up your hands."Let me finish what I was saying. Naughty boys don't get to touch. They get spanked." You said as he mewled." What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted was that you can touch, AFTER I wash you and after you finish washing me. Only after, you got it?" you said, squeezing a little tighter. "Y-yes." he croaked out. "Good boy," you replied.
You washed out the shampoo in his hair, replacing it with conditioner as he did the same for you. You squirted more soap onto your washcloth, preparing to test him. You took the washcloth in your hand, slowly working over his legs, arms, and chest, teasingly brushing over his overspent cock before returning to cleaning him. He washed you thoroughly, taking care to wash your legs before making sure your stomach and belly button piercing were thoroughly cleaned. Finally, he reached up to wash the leftover makeup off of your face. He touched you like a porcelain doll, worried that you would crack under even the slightest pressure, making you giggle. He flinched, thinking he hurt you, but you grabbed his face in your hands, delivering him a kiss that covered his face in soap.
You both stood there, laughing for a second, relishing the moment before you let out a shy smile. "You can touch my chest now, but make sure you clean my piercings carefully." He looked down at your chest, and now that he'd been given permission, he didn't really know what to do. You could see the puzzled look on his face so you grabbed one of his soapy hands in yours and brought it to your breast. He squeezed experimentally, and you let out a gentle moan. You had been keeping in your arousal to draw out his teasing, but you couldn't hold yourself back as you felt his large hands grasp around your chest and roll your nipple in his fingers.
There was a sweet dichotomy in the harshness of his grasp on your boob, coupled with the gentle twist of your nipple. It was as if he was worried to hurt your piercings, so he made up for it in his grasp. You brought the washcloth down to his cock, hard against his stomach, and began to work him. He whined at the harsh material. "I need to clean you up, baby. You still have a cummy cock. If you beg hard enough when I'm done, I will touch you." You said into his ear as he rested his head on your shoulder.
He was overstimulated, and you could tell, so you decided you wouldn't take as long as you wanted to tease him. But you would still draw it out for your own pleasure. He was bucking and mewling into you as you roughly got him off. It shot you straight to your core, the heat from the shower mixed with his grasp on you, physically and visually, had you closer than you wanted, and deep down you just wanted him to touch you.
When you deemed him clean enough you let the rag drop to the floor. "Beg" you moaned out. "Please, please touch me, I want your hand on me, that's all I want." He whined, bucking into the air. You took pity on him, grasping him with your soap-covered hand. He hissed as your soft touch replaced the rough rag and you could tell he was close. "Touch me, Spencer." You said and his hand shot to your core. His tentative moves giving way to a natural confidence. As he slipped a hand between your folds he could feel you dripping with desire. "O-Oh my god," was all he could stammer out before sinking two of his fingers into your depths, thumb circling your clit. You knew his fingers were long, and you had even fantasized about this exact moment, but nothing could prepare you for his actual length. He had said he did research but that was proven by how quickly he found your g spot and clit. You doubled over in pleasure as his fingers thoroughly fucked you out.
"Spencer, I'm so close, baby. Be a good boy and make me cum." You said, slumping against his shoulder, rubbing yourself against his hand. "Mommy, I'm cumming." He said, looking into your eyes as his body shuttered. His words ricochetted around in your brain, sending you over the edge as you cum all down his hand. You bit into his shoulder to muffle your scream, just as he matched you, cumming down your hand.
You came down from your high as Spencer nearly collapsed onto you. You took extra care in making sure he was all clean before helping him out of the shower and into a towel. He leaned against you the whole time as you got him ready for bed. You forced him to brush his teeth before dragging him to bed.
He sat at the edge, eyes bleary with sleep, taking in the events of the day. You sat behind him, gently toweling off his hair before brushing it and putting lotion on his body. He leaned into your touch, appreciating being cared for, feeling as if everything had been a dream. "C-Can I sleep here? I mean Morgan locked me out and I don't have pants and-" You cut him off with a gentle kiss."Of course, sweetheart, do you want to cuddle? It's ok if you don't or if you want this to be a one-time thing, it's all up to you, baby." You said, gently sweeping his hair out of his face as he looked up with eyes the size of dinner plates. "We can do this more than once? You'll let me? For real?" He asked. "Only if you want to sweetheart. This is all about you." You said, giving him a small smile tinged with a slight sadness. "That's not very fair, I want it to be about you too. What do you want?"
The question knocked you off guard. You're not used to people asking what you want. Usually, people just take and give none in return. The fact that Spencer Reid, your adorable virgin coworker was asking you what you wanted with such a sincere look, caused tears to prick into your eyes. "No one has asked me that in a long time," you smiled, "I would love to do this, and more again with you Spencer. Whenever you want." He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down so you were lying next to each other on the bed. "Whenever we want" He corrected, cuddling into you.
You surveyed the bite make you left on his shoulder, running your hand over it. "Sorry for marking you up, I didn't mean to hurt you." You said softly as he blushed. "I-I was actually wondering... well... could you maybe give me a hickey? I like that you marked me." He said. You obliged him, giving him long kisses and sucks, gradually working up your force until a large purple bruise had formed on his collar bone. He was gently moaning the whole time, but you didn't want to work him up again as he had already cum twice that night and you didn't think he could handle more. He looked down at it as you pulled away, and you could see a question lingering on his mind.
"What's up?" you asked, smoothing his hair with your hand. "You said you hadn't been asked what you want in a long time, and I was wondering, well... who gave you your piercings?" he asked tentatively and you laughed." You have been reading my book too much, how many chapters have you read?" You said and he looked up at you surprised."You knew? and... well... only 3 chapters. I didn't want to pry into your private life." He said. "You just pried enough to know I want to get pierced by someone?" You asked raising an eyebrow. Before he could get an excuse out, you cut him off. "Well for a genius, you obviously didn't read it that carefully. I said I WOULD like to be pierced during sex, meaning I have not before. These are just standard piercings from a piercing shop, not a big deal, I just like the way they look." You said and he let out a sigh of relief. "Why? d'you get jealous?" you questioned him. He looked down and nodded shyly.
"I can be a lot of firsts for you but if you play your cards right, you can be a lot of firsts for me too. You already gave me a first tonight. You called me mommy. No one's done that before but it was really hot. I liked it a lot." You said matter of factly. "But that is a conversation for another day. It is 2 am and we need to be on a flight at 7:30, so let's get some sleep." You said, turning off the lights and cuddling up close to him. In a matter of seconds, you both were asleep, tangled into each other's arms, both of you feeling, for once, safe and sound.
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Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here
Well wasn't that a doozy. I had so much fun writing that and I think it paid off for sure. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to my beloved tag list, speaking of which.
@spencer-reids-slut @ya-triedit @reidstoychest @flipperpenguins @thatsonezesty13 @jbbarnes-loki @big-galaxy-chaos
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#sub spencer#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid#sub!spencer#pervspence#pervespencer#perve spencer reid#perv spencer reid
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I’ve Got You
Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: An embarrassed Reader accepts a swimming lesson from Spencer
Category: FLUFF / SMUT ending (will be specified before it splits)
Warnings: Language, fluffy smut at the end
Word Count: 5.5k
Full Request: “...For your 1k celebration, I was wondering if you could write a fic where Spencer teaches reader how to swim, and then smut happens? Congratulations for 1k btw 🥰!” — @jareauswifey
***EDITED: 7/23/2021***
MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST
NOTE: Fun fact: I don’t know how to swim either, so this was incredibly fun to write and I can’t wait for you guys to read it!
Also, the more I wrote this the more it became absolutely fluffy, but since there was a request for smut, I wrote it in as an extra ending. So the majority of this is still fluffy, and there’s a good, solid end for those who don’t/can’t read smut. But the smut is added at the end for those who want it. Totally up to you! I hope y’all really enjoy this one!!
***
"Wait, she dragged you into the pool?"
"She didn't... drag me, she pulled me in."
"Look, no matter how you say it, Pretty Boy, the fact of the matter is, you ended up making out with a movie star in her pool. I call that a win."
While everyone in the bullpen was laughing, you found yourself distanced from the conversation, definitely not thrilled about the idea of re-living the case you'd just worked. And you loved Garcia as much as the next person, but this was one of those times you wished she wasn't so adamantly curious about everyone's personal lives.
"Look, it's not even a big deal, okay, people... kiss each other in pools all the time," Reid got out quickly, also not very thrilled about this conversation. "I mean, you've all done it, right?"
Garcia, Morgan, Elle, and JJ all recounted quickly a few times they'd experienced it, and you were hoping desperately that they wouldn't ask you, since you'd stayed quiet pretty much the whole time, immersing yourself in paperwork (or so you made them believe; you were really just trying not to think about how sad this whole situation made you).
But, of course, it was not your week.
"What about you, Y/N?" Garcia asked. You looked up to see all of your friends looking at you expectantly, and you felt like you could have cried right then and there.
"O—oh, um... I haven't... done that before."
You wanted to smack the smile off Morgan's face when he said, "Oh, so you're telling me Pretty Boy's got Pretty Girl beat in something for once?"
"That's... That's not true, he beats me at everything," you countered, already feeling your face get warm. "Look, it isn't a big deal. It's just not something I've ever done before, and there's nothing wrong with that."
"Never said there was... Why are you getting so defensive?"
The teasing tone in his voice made everything worse, especially since he knew about your huge crush on Reid. He was the first one to point it out, and you swore him to secrecy. And now, he was threatening to expose you, and you wanted to tackle him, even though you were positive you wouldn't get very far.
"I'm not defensive! I just... I haven't kissed anyone in a pool before, and Reid's right, you guys are acting like it's a big deal when it isn't, that's all."
"Well, how come?" Morgan pressed.
"How come it's not a big deal?"
"No, how come you haven't done it?"
That settled it. You were going to deck him in the face the first chance you got.
"Because... I... I can't swim."
You'd said it so quietly, completely embarrassed over the fact, but everyone still was able to hear you.
"You can't?" Elle asked, obviously amused.
"No," you stated firmly, crossing your arms and huffing, a strand of your hair blowing away from your face as you did so. "Before you ask why, I just always had other things to do growing up, and I never bothered to learn. And there's nothing wrong with that either, by the way."
You refused to look at your friends as they took in all this information about you, and by this point you couldn't wait to go home. In fact, you were thinking about leaving right now, to save yourself from further embarrassment.
But then, of freaking course, Derek Morgan had to say something.
"Hey, maybe Reid could teach you how."
The second you were alone with him, he was dead meat.
Your face was even warmer now, and you wanted nothing more than to hide, maybe under the desk, though perhaps a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere sounded more satisfying. Hell, anything sounded more satisfying than being here right now.
"Ha-ha," you laughed instead, trying to play it off like a joke-suggestion. "I'm sure Reid has better things to do with his time than teaching a woman in her twenties how to swim."
"Are you kidding me, Reid never has anything better to do with his time," Morgan countered, earning a few chuckles from the room.
You rolled your eyes and started to gather your things. You were going to decline and say goodnight, but before you could someone spoke up.
"I—if it's something you really wanted to learn, I could... I wouldn't mind teaching you the basics... or something."
As much as you didn't want to look at Reid in that moment, you did it anyway, because you had to make sure he was being serious. To make sure you'd heard that right.
"What?" you asked quietly.
"Well... You are always saying how we should hang out more. Maybe... it would be a good idea?"
You had said that. But that was before. You know, when you were starting to grow your confidence around him. When you were finally starting to grow the guts to ask him out on a date. Before he started kissing movie stars in pools...
Now all that confidence had been shattered, and you felt smaller than you'd ever been, embarrassed and incredibly babied at your inability to fucking swim.
All of this should have nudged you to say, "no". It should have saved you from making any rash decisions, but...
The way Reid was looking at you, so genuine in that kind way of his, you could have sworn he was begging you to say, "yes".
Or maybe that was your crush talking.
Whatever the case, it was that stupid crush that pushed all reason out of your brain and made you agree.
"O—okay. Why not?"
Your friends clapped, Reid smiled at you, and you could practically feel Morgan's burning Gotcha! look all the way from the other side of the room.
What were you getting yourself into?
***
You almost thought about bailing. There was no way you were going to survive this! Not only was it embarrassing enough that you couldn't swim, but now the guy you have the biggest crush on was going to teach you how? You were going to have to see him, wet, and he was going to have to see you in a swimsuit, and he was probably going to touch you, too.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—
You were about to call Reid and tell him you weren't feeling well, but just as you got out your phone, he showed up in front of you, walking into the pool room at the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. Neither of you had a pool, and to avoid further embarrassment on your part, he offered to rent a room for the weekend so you could use the pool when no one else would be there. In theory it was a good idea, but in actuality it was an awful idea, because now not only did you have to take swimming lessons from your crush, but you were sharing a room with him for the weekend as well.
It was your worst nightmare.
"Hey! I—I got here a little earlier than planned, so I wasn't gonna wait here that long, and I... Never mind. I'm sorry. Hello." Great, now I'm rambling... Good start, Y/N...
Reid laughed a little, setting down a bag. "Hi, Y/N. Are you still sure you want to do this? I know... I kind of pushed it on you last minute, and—"
"No! I'm... It's probably something I should learn at some point anyway... Better get it done now while I can, right?"
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. So, uh... You want to get started?"
You turned to the pool, gesturing with your arms. "Lead the way, Genius."
He laughed a little and made his way to the water, and you took a deep breath as you followed behind, hoping you wouldn't make a bigger fool of yourself than you already had.
Reminding yourself to breathe and stay cool, you reluctantly and very slowly made your way into the water, staying close to the edges even though you were tall enough to stand with the water sitting safely at your chest. You'd been in pools before, but always just like this, at the edge. Your friends growing up were always supportive in your decision not to do anything more, even though they'd offered multiple times to teach you, but the truth was that you were quite afraid of being in deep water.
You were never going to tell them that, though. You weren't even sure you wanted to tell Spencer. But you supposed that if he was really going to teach you how to swim, you'd have to come clean.
Just... Not right now.
"Hmm... Okay, so I'm thinking for now I should teach you how to float."
Shit.
"Um... O—kay..."
He could tell you were nervous, it was obvious by the sympathetic way he looked at you and tilted his head. "I know it's probably intimidating because you don't know how to swim, but floating is actually pretty easy."
He then proceeded to lean back and float on his back. His head was tilted so he could still look at you, and he looked serene. Calm. And supportive, as he said, "There's nothing to it, all you have to do is lean back and just let your body relax. It might feel like you're starting to sink a little, but you won't."
"WhywouldyoutellmethatohmyGod," you squeaked, leaning out and holding very tightly to the edge of the pool. The panic you outwardly exuded was just about the most embarrassing thing you could have done, and it only made you feel worse, shutting your eyes tightly and regretting every life choice youd ever made.
Reid was suddenly beside you, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you jumped, making him retreat. "Y/N, hey. Look at me."
You didn't want to. God, you wanted to do anything else. You would have rather floated in the water.
But you did it anyway, refusing to make things worse.
His face was just as soft as his touch, and even though you had nothing to worry about, you felt like you were going to cry.
"Are you... afraid of the water?" It wasn't mean or mocking. It was a genuine, concerned observation, and that somehow made it even worse.
"Y—yes," you choked out, feeling your throat start to tighten.
"Why did you agree to do this, then? I... I'm still more than happy to help you, but if you're afraid, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I won't make you..."
"I know that, I just... You were practically begging to teach me how to swim, and I didn't want to make you sad," you joked hoping it would lighten the mood and keep you from actually shedding any tears.
Thankfully he laughed, and it made you laugh right along with him, some of your troubles easing and the tightness in your throat letting up just a little. The two of you were silent for a few beats before you reached out with one hand and grabbed his, taking a deep breath and nodding.
"Okay. I'm ready to let you teach me how to float. I promise I won't... freak out this time."
He looked down at your hand on his for a second, something changing in his eyes before he looked back up. "Are you sure?"
No. "Yes."
"Okay... Do you... want to stay here by the edge?"
You scoffed. "Where else would we go?"
"Um... Never mind, we'll stay here. Just um... Come here?"
You laughed a little at the fact that he didn't get that you were joking, and then let go of the ledge with your other hand, pulling yourself towards him and letting him get closer. His hands gently held onto your arms as your feet planted themselves on the pool floor. The proximity was surprisingly calming, considering your outburst just a minute earlier, and you were thankful for that.
Despite all the mess, things weren't nearly as bad as you'd imagined they'd be.
"Okay," Spencer said, nodding slightly. "I'm going to float first. I want you to keep your hands pressed up under my back, okay?"
"But... don't you already know how to float? What do you need me for?"
"I'm demonstrating how light your body weight is while you're in water. See, when I go back like this..."
That was your cue. He leaned back just like he had before, and your hands moved, laying your palms out to lay under his back as instructed. You instantly understood what he meant, because he started to sink a little, and when you lifted him up, it was like he weighed nothing.
"So, even if you do start to sink, I'll be right there to keep you steady. You'll be just fine," he reassured, standing up again. You removed your hands and smiled at him, already feeling better about this.
"Okay. How do I... Go back? Do I just..."
"Oh, uh... Here," he offered, reaching out his arms. You walked into them, and instantly felt your heartbeat pick up when he wrapped them around you, the two of you closer than you'd ever been.
"I'm going to lay you on your back, okay? I've got you."
You nodded, unable to form any words. And when he leaned your body back into the water, you were suddenly aware of all he could see.
Warmth flooded through you as you looked up at him, his hands planting themselves firmly under your back. Your bare back. One of them was pressed against the tie on your upper back, and immediately your mind went there, imagining his fingers deftly untying the knot and letting your bathing top come undone. Your heart raced faster and faster, and it was becoming harder to relax.
"Y/N, it's okay," Spencer said, snapping you out of it. "I'm right here. I'm not going to let you go, okay?"
"Okay," you whispered. "I trust you."
"I'm gonna start letting you go, okay? Just relax your muscles, take nice, calm breaths, and let everything go. Just... float."
His words were soft and whispered, so light it was like in a past life they were dandelion seeds floating in the wind on a warm summer day. You closed your eyes and focused on that image, the white fluff floating in a field, and your body started to relax.
"That's it," you barely heard Spencer's voice as you drifted off. Everything was light, airy, and... non-existent.
You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, but eventually you realized that there was nothing holding you up anymore. Nothing was there to ground you, to keep you steady.
Your heart leapt out of your chest, and you gasped, flailing and you felt your face start to go under as a result. "No!" you screamed, suddenly panicked.
Almost as quickly as the panic set in, Spencer's arms were wrapped around you again, pulling you from under the water and into his body. Your arms instantly clung to his neck, trying to pull yourself up and away from the water, where it couldn't drown you.
"Y/N, hey, I've got you. It's okay, I'm right here. You're okay..."
"I'm done," you breathed, trying to calm yourself. "Can we be done?"
"Yes, we can be done," he said back softly, using one of his hands to stroke the wet hair from your face.
Despite your urgency to be done, however, you stayed like that, wrapped up in him for what felt like forever. His hand continued stroking your hair and his lips continued to whisper sweet words of encouragement and praise. Gradually your breathing slowed to a steady pace, and you almost forgot where you were again. At least until he spoke up.
"Are you okay?"
You lifted your head back to look into his eyes, managing to get out a quick, "Uh huh," even as your breath caught in your throat. The way he was looking at you with such concern and sweetness sent a course of butterflies through your stomach. They migrated out towards your chest, accompanying your heartbeat in a quick, thundering pace that only seemed to get faster when his hand grazed your cheek.
Against your better judgement, your eyes fluttered closed, and you savored the feeling of his hands on you. The one brushed down your cheek and over your neck and collarbone, while the other found purchase against your lower back, his thumb rubbing comforting circles just above the hemline of your swim bottoms.
You felt his forehead touch yours and audibly gasped, clinging tighter to his neck and refusing to open your eyes.
"I've got you," he said so softly you weren't even sure you heard it at all. "I've always got you. Can you plant your feet down?"
You were still close enough to the edge of the pool that you knew you could, but in all honesty you'd forgotten you were even there. The sheer panic that came with floating on your own made you feel like you were in the middle of the ocean, and if he hadn't told you otherwise, you would have believed it to be true.
"I can," you answered truthfully. "But I don't want to."
With your foreheads pressed together still, you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, and it was sheer sparkling amusement you found swimming in his gaze as he spoke.
"Then don't."
You weren't sure who moved first. The next thing you knew, your lips were pressed together, and it was all you could take not to simply absorb into him. Which... of course, you practically did anyway. Because of the water, he lifted you to him with ease, giving you a better angle to cling to him since you'd done it so frantically before.
Your lips moved together without a care in the world, the two of you taking your time to just feel the moment. The tender, caring way in which he reciprocated and explored your kiss was almost as butterfly-inducing as all the simple looks he'd thrown your way and the gentle tone he always took with you.
It was almost as if he liked you back.
The thought made you pull away, breathless and dizzy, and the sheer look of contentment, followed by immense panic that set on Spencer's face brought you back to real life.
"I'm sorry," he rushed. "I... Y/N, I..."
Knowing you were already in too deep, you stopped him. "I like you."
He was silent. Frozen. And then, simply, "What?"
You sighed. "I... I like you. I have a crush on you. And I've had a crush on you pretty much from the moment we met. And I... I was trying to find the courage to tell you, and then the thing with Lila Archer happened and I wasn't even... like, she's so pretty, and she can swim, obviously, and I just felt like a total loser after that case, and so when you said you—"
Your words were cut off when he kissed you again, and you'd never been so surprised. Well, save for the panic you felt while floating in the water on your own just a few minutes ago, you supposed...
Though you were inclined to say this surprise was much better.
He pulled away after a few seconds, searching your eyes. "I like you, too," he said quietly.
"Y—You do?"
"Well, of course I do. You're... You're smart, and you're beautiful, a—and you're really good at swimming..."
You laughed. Hard. And Spencer laughed right along with you, until the two of you were just there, smiling at each other. And eventually, you ended up kissing each other again, just as you had before.
Only this time, your kisses got deeper. With every second, the two of you became more hungry, the low and soft moans coming from the bass of your throat urging him to become bolder.
Rather than holding you up by your back, he lowered his hands, gently over your butt and hooking under your thighs as your legs clung around his waist. Your arms still stayed around his neck, only now your fingers weaved through the hair at the nape of it, and when you tugged a little, he moaned into your mouth.
You didn't know how you got there, but all of a sudden, your back was pressed up against the edge of the pool, and you used that leverage to let go of his neck and let your hands roam freely, over his arms and down his chest.
But eventually the two of you had to come up for air, so you broke apart reluctantly, both panting and smiling like fools.
"So, is, uh... is this a hobby of yours?" you asked. "Making out with girls in pools?"
Spencer laughed, pressing his forehead to yours. "Only recently, but... I think this time is the only one that really counts."
He nuzzled his nose against yours and you laughed, feeling completely warm all over and suddenly thankful for not being able to swim.
***NSFW ENDING BELOW***
Now it was just... weird. Maybe that wasn't the right word, but it definitely was a weird feeling.
You'd both showered separately, barely saying a word to each other in between that wasn't awkward mumbling... And now you were sleeping in separate beds, faced away from each other, and you were pretty sure that neither of you were actually awake.
It had been like that for hours.
You weren't positive of how he was feeling right now, but you were still on fire. His kisses had burned you in a way that still lingered, even after taking a warm shower to clean the chlorine from your body, and a small cold shower to refresh you and quell the heat you were feeling that was no doubt a product of him.
Because nothing ever seemed to work out in your favor, it obviously hadn't worked.
So there you were, trying and failing to sleep, hyperaware of Spencer sleeping(?) in the bed next to yours, pressing your fingers to your lips and hoping you could recover from this.
You... liked each other, though... You'd both admitted it, mutually agreed that the feelings were there on both sides, and you happily kissed one another. A lot.
So why was this feeling so weird? Why was everything awkward? Maybe it was just a byproduct of your awkwardness and his combining, rather than cancelling each other out and creating a perfect match. Maybe it wouldn't last, because you'd always heard that opposites attracted, and as far as you could tell, you and Spencer Reid were anything but opposite.
The thought made you curl into a ball, all the awkwardness you were feeling suddenly dissolving into a sorrow and worry that had never nagged you like this before. The burning your body had felt before seemed to cool, leaving you numb and hollow.
But then, a beam of light through the clouds.
"Y/N?"
"Y—yeah?" you said back, matching his near-whisper.
"I know we have our own beds, but... I... I was wondering i—if maybe you'd want... to sleep in mine? With me?"
Maybe it was pathetic and desperate, but you didn't answer. You got up from your bed—practically leapt— and met him in a few strides, getting in under the covers and laying down, facing him in the dark your eyes had adjusted to.
He was smiling, half triumphant and half amused at your eagerness. "Can't sleep either?"
"No," you said quietly, still searching what little of his eyes you could see. "I... Truthfully, I think I just missed being close to you."
"Me, too," he whispered, scooting closer.
His hands were tentative in touching you, but you gently gripped his wrist and guided it to your waist, where it firmly rested and brought warmth back into your veins. Even through the fabric of your tee shirt, his touch burned hot, and it was everything you needed.
But it wasn't everything you got.
He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, and it burned just as hotly. It made you scoot even closer, until your chests were practically flush and your arms rested firmly around his neck again, making him smile. You felt it against your forehead, and that alone was enough to fully bring you back to life.
You wanted more. Just being close to him wasn't enough anymore. So you stretched a little and found your way to his neck, pressing soft kisses under his jaw. The grip on your waist tightened a little, and it urged you forward, strengthening your kisses and even encouraging you to get in a few licks and bites.
He stuttered your name, and you pulled back, looking at his face. But before you could say anything, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss that could only be described as pure desperation. You sighed against him and purely relented as he pulled you closer. Instinctively your leg lifted and wrapped around his, the tangle of limbs and lips becoming second nature in no time.
Before, when you were kissing in the pool, you were careful to avoid the teeth accidentally clanking together or the accidental tongue slip, afraid of ruining the sweet moment you were sharing, but all caution was thrown to the wind this time. You were both so desperate to be near one another that you welcomed every imperfection. In fact, it's like they weren't even imperfections at all.
At one point, you all but grinded your lower half into him, warmth flooding there, now, too.
And it seemed he was feeling the same...
You could tell he wanted to pull back, to explain himself, but you didn't care. You wanted it just as badly, so you did the only thing that felt natural and shifted, straddling his waist and deepening your kiss.
In no time, he gathered your hair in his hands, sweeping it away from your face and tucking it behind your ear as you slowly moved your hips. The groan he let slip was just about the most delicious sound you'd ever heard, the grandest thing you'd ever felt, and you wanted to hear it again, over and over until your last breath.
And then you felt him grow harder underneath you, and the mere implications of that sent you into a tailspin.
"Y/N," Spencer said softly, and you paused, leaning back a little and combing through his hair with your fingers. It was still damp from the shower.
"Do... Do you not want to?" you asked sweetly. "We don't... we don't have to tonight. O—or at all, if you don't want to."
"Oh, no I do, it's... just that I didn't know if you wanted to. And I don't... have a whole lot of experience with sex, a—and I didn't want to... I don't know, be bad."
With a small laugh, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. "I'm with you, Spencer Reid. Nothing could ever be bad."
"You're just saying that," he said, though you could hear the smile in his voice.
"I mean it. You make me feel safe, and I... I trust you."
He kissed you then, gently one second and then hungrily the next, and it was all too much to bear. So you grabbed his face and kissed him back, as hard as you could, and he matched your energy by lightly bucking his hips up towards you. The feeling sent a shockwave through you, and even elicited a whine from the back of your throat.
The two of you kept at that for a good five minutes or so before you decided it was, again, all too much. You pulled away from him and sat up, still straddling his hips. And while looking down at him, seeing him breathe as steadily as he could, you brought your hands to the hem of your shirt and slowly yanked it over your head, revealing yourself to him and welcoming the warmth that bloomed through you at his reaction.
His eyes widened and his breathing faltered, and even though it was dim, you could have sworn you'd seen a pink tint paint his cheeks.
"Touch me," you whispered suddenly, the urgency surprising even yourself. Without hesitation, Spencer reached out as far as he could and gripped your bare waist. His thumbs swiped gently up the front of your stomach, and then you leaned down a bit, giving him full access.
The second his hands brushed over your bare chest, you sighed out, small pricks of pleasure beaming through your whole body. Your hands reached down to anchor yourself, landing on his chest and gripping his shirt. He kneaded your breasts first, feeling them out and getting used to how they weighed in his hands, and then he slid them over, brushing the pads of his thumbs over your nipples.
You leaned down and kissed him then, gripping his shirt and lifting it until he understood what you were trying to do.
Both of your clothes came off one by one, and by the time you were both fully naked, time seemed to slow. You both marveled at each other, pressed soft kisses to each inch of bare skin, and inevitably prepared for what you both wanted most.
He slipped on a condom, fumbling an explanation of how Morgan gave it to him after the case in LA, and you laughed, promising to give him a piece of your mind later.
And then, you wrapped yourself around him once more. Only, rather than in the pool, he was sitting up in the bed, leaning against the headboard while your arms rested on his shoulders and your legs clung to his waist.
You sunk onto him slowly, gasping out at how full he made you feel. Every millimeter deeper was slowly splitting you from the inside out, and it was... God, it was everything. Especially as he wrapped his arms around your back, making those comforting circles with his thumbs again, and whispering, "I've got you," over and over again.
By the time he was as deep inside you as he could be, you were breathing into his neck, kissing him there and trying to catch your breath. It had been so long since the last time you'd done this, and now that it was happening, and with Spencer of all people, you were overwhelmed in the best way possible.
Once you were ready, you started moving, slowly lifting your hips and bringing them back down. Until, eventually, you found a slow, searing rhythm that had you panting against his skin.
A low groan left his throat when you clenched around him, and it spurred you on. With another tight squeeze, you quickened your pace just a little, and everything was starting to build.
"Y/N... Y/N, fuck..."
His words were few and far between, but they were laced with just the right amount of wonderment and desire, sending another swarm of butterflies all throughout your entire body.
"Say it again," you breathed desperately in his ear, gripping his shoulders as you clenched around him again. "Say my name, please..."
And he did. It was the sweetest thing you'd ever heard, better than your favorite song, and the only thing you wanted to hear for the rest of your life. He said it again and again, thrown into a mix of expletives and little whimpers that all meshed together to form your new favorite song.
You reciprocated, whimpering out his name when his hips lifted in time with yours, hitting something deeper within you that sent you flying into your own world.
"Kiss me," he pleaded, his hands pressing so firmly into your back you thought they'd leave handprints.
It was a plea you wouldn't deny even if you were able. You kissed him deeply, gladly welcoming the soft push of his tongue against yours and the little sounds he offered. You returned each and every one of them as your body knotted, that imminent feeling of tension starting to rise within every part of you.
He must have felt it, too, because one of his hands reached over and slid in between your bodies, looking for and then finding your clit. His middle finger made easy circles that brought you closer and closer until you snapped, tightening around him—your arms and your legs included.
You cried out against his mouth, and he breathed a final, "I've got you, baby," that shattered your world as you shattered around him. He fell closely behind, and you relished the feeling of him tensing and twitching inside of you.
As your heartbeats slowed, and your breathing right along with it, you slumped against him, your foreheads resting gently against one another. He kissed you sweetly, and you returned it, feeling yourself become more at ease the longer you stayed there.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, still catching his breath. "Can you move?"
Recalling the moment in the pool earlier, you laughed a little, nudging his nose with yours and promptly answering, "I can. But I don't want to."
With a smile, Spencer hugged you closer and let you rest your head in the crook of his neck.
"Then don't."
TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @takeyourleap-of-faith (I’m sorry I keep forgetting to add the taglist to all my stuff, I’m still kinda new at this lol. That being said, if you’d like to be added, shoot me a message or comment here and I’ll add you 😂❤)
#mercy 1k celebration#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid smut#request
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Don’t Go - [Reid x Reader]
masterlist
Summary: After being tortured by Tobias Hankel, Dr. Spencer Reid is struggling and everyone can see it. Reader can’t bear his pain and tries to comfort him...only to be heartbroken when he says their night meant nothing.
Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 10.6k
Genre: Angst. Angst. Angst. But fluff at the end cause I’m not a monster.
Content Warning: Talk of drug use, language, penetrative sex, oral sex (female receiving), and just angst. All the angst. Get tissue.
A/n: This is set over the arc of episodes 2x16 - 2x18. A special thank you to @imjusthereformggcontent and @catsadams for reading through the beginning of this in its first form. You’re both angels.
I hope this is everything y’all wanted it to be, my doves. Thank you for sticking with me.
Request prompt: Can you write a fic where Spencer is high on dilaudid and tells you that your night together was nothing and that you're nothing to him. Then the next day he can't rember telling you and and he can't figure out why you are avoiding him.
-- Don’t Go --
The first indication I got that today wasn’t going to be normal came when Special Agent Grant Anderson shuffled into my office just after 9:30 am. He didn’t knock before he entered and then shut the door quickly behind him.
I glanced up from the paperwork in front of me, my eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Something on your mind, Special Agent?” I teased.
Ever since Anderson made a mistake that led to SSA Elle Greenaway being shot a few months ago, a lot of people on this floor had been giving him the cold shoulder, despite the fact that Greenaway had forgiven him before she left the BAU.
When I first joined the bureau and was assigned to this unit, Anderson had been my first friend. He was there for me when I felt nervous and like I was a complete imposter. He’s the reason I was still a member of this team; I’d never turn my back on him.
“Something’s up with Reid.”
I propped both of my elbows on the desk, my chin resting on my folded hands. “Well, he was just abducted and tortured. That’s gonna have an effect on someone.”
Anderson was already shaking his head before I got done speaking. “This is different. I just tried to talk to him while he was getting some coffee. I asked him about David Tennant taking over as The Doctor and he…he snapped at me, y/l/n.”
Okay, that’s odd. “Maybe he just didn’t feel like talking,” I defended. “He was tortured, Grant.”
“I’ve known him since I started here. He’s…something is wrong.”
I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “It can’t be anything too bad. I mean, he’s surrounded by profilers. His mentor is Jason Gideon for god’s sake. If something was wrong, they’d know.”
Anderson walked forward and braced his palms on my desk, his eyes boring into mine.
“Dr. Spencer Reid is also one of the best profilers in the world. I’m telling you, y/n, something is wrong.”
I conceded with a sigh. “What do we do?”
“I think you should talk to him.”
My spine stiffened. “Me? Why?” But I knew why.
Anderson scoffed. “You know how he looks at you. And I know how you look at him.”
Dr. Spencer Reid’s nervousness around me could have been blamed on many things, Anderson insisted it meant he liked me. I wasn’t convinced…because I saw how he looked at JJ.
How I looked at Reid was obvious. He was the most brilliant man I had ever met, he was kind, sweet, and his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he loved. My heart fluttered when he realized he was rambling and he blushed, and my day was made whenever he would seek me out to talk to me.
I had a crush on Spencer Reid.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”
He shot me a relieved smile and backed away from the desk. “Sooner than later, please.”
Such a sassy bitch, I thought as he shut the door.
--
It was well after 6 pm when I gathered my things to leave the office that day. I had been hired as one of the many, many agents that worked under JJ. Media liaison wasn't her only role; she also fielded hundreds of requests for FBI assistance every week. It was my job to go through those requests, make initial judgments, and then send out responses.
I had always been happier working behind the scenes, so a job filled with paperwork suited me just fine. All I wanted to do was help catch bad guys, and with the BAU I felt like I was making a difference.
Speaking to Reid had been on my mind all day, but I had expected that I'd have the night to think up a plan of attack then talk to him first thing in the morning, but when I walked past the bullpen I saw him at his desk.
The entire floor appeared to be empty apart from him. His shoulders were hunched, his head resting in his hands.
I was opening the doors before I realized what was happening. I had crossed the distance until I was standing in front of him before I even knew what I was going to say.
“Reid,” I said softly. I almost touched him, but I didn’t think he’d like that. He didn’t seem to like to be touched.
His head snapped up; the circles under his eyes were darker than normal, his hair was messier than usual, and his clothing was in disarray. He cleared his throat, his tongue running over his dry lips.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.
"I can't imagine what you're going through," I began, standing at the end of his desk. "I don't even know how to begin to think about it. So, I won't ask you to talk about it. I won't ask you to talk at all. I just…I just want you to know that I'm here if you just want a friend. If you want to grab some coffee and talk about nothing…whatever."
Those warm brown eyes were duller than I’d ever seen them, but they ran over my entire body quizzically, like he wasn’t sure I was even there.
After a beat, I decided it was best to leave him to it. I couldn't force him to accept my offer…not that I would force him even if I could. "Goodnight, Reid."
I turned and made my way back to the double glass doors of the bullpen. I hadn’t heard him move, so I was completely thrown off guard when his hand wrapped around my wrist. My eyes looked up to meet his, confusion plain on my face.
His eyes weren't dull anymore, they were shimmering but not in any way I ever wanted to see. He swiped at his cheek angrily when the first tear fell. "Don't go," he rasped.
I won’t.
--
We didn’t speak as we took the elevator down to the lobby. It was only when we reached the front doors of the building that I spoke. “Where do you want to go?”
He scratched at his forearm, his eyes moving over the room behind us like he was expecting someone to run out from any direction. I wasn't a profiler, but I recognized hypervigilance when I saw it.
“I don’t know. Not here.”
I nodded. “Alright. Do you want to go…get food? Coffee?” He shook his head, his hands now picking at the threads of the cardigan he wore. “We could go for a walk?”
“I…” He cleared his throat, his eyes rising to meet mine. “I don’t want to be around a lot of people right now.”
“Okay, we can-“
“But,” he interrupted. “I…I’m afraid to be alone, y/n. I’m…I’m so fucking afraid.”
I reached for him only to still my hand at the last second, millimeters away from touching him. “I won’t leave you alone, Reid.” My teeth dug into my lower lip as I thought. “We could go to your apartment. Or mine.” I quickly added when I saw how his eyes widened at the mention of his place.
“I…I don’t want to go home.” He licked his lips again, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Then you don’t have to go home right now. We’ll go to my place. We can order dinner, watch a movie, or we can do nothing. It’s up to you.”
The look of relief on his face, combined with the smile he sent me warmed up a part of my heart I didn’t even know was cold.
--
The ride to my apartment was mostly silent; I had turned the radio on for background noise. Spencer’s eyes kept staring out of my passenger side window while his hands twisted in his lap.
He followed behind me quietly when we entered my building, then took the elevator up to my apartment. Spencer’s eyes glided over my apartment, taking in the photos of my friends and family on the walls, the throw pillows on my couch, and the titles on my bookshelf.
I went into the kitchen to get us both a bottle of water only to find him standing in the same spot when I returned.
“Are you hungry?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, do you want to sit down?”
He nodded, following me over to my couch. I curled my feet up under myself, my hands folded in my lap. “Spencer…I know I said you don’t have to talk, and you don’t. But…I want to help. I just…I want to do anything I can to help you.” I let out a breath, embarrassed that my voice was already thick with tears. “If that means sitting here beside you and just staring at the wall that’s fine. I…I just want to help.”
Reid’s head swiveled over to face me, those beautiful brown eyes were frightened. “Tobias…he…he hurt me. And I can still feel it,” he whispered, his voice raw even in that hushed volume. “It’s all I feel. I just…I don’t want to hurt anymore, y/n. I can’t stand it.”
I couldn’t stop myself from rising up on my knees and moving towards him. “Can I hug you? Is that okay?”
The words weren’t out of my mouth before he wrapped his arms around my middle, laying his head against my chest. When the first sob wracked through his body, I felt something inside of me crack. The second sob triggered my own.
I didn't know what had happened to him, and if I did know, I don't think I would ever truly understand. But the agony he was in affected me more than any pain I had ever felt myself.
My fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the soft tangles. His hair is curly, I thought absentmindedly. He always wore it slicked down…but it was curly.
Spencer finally quieted after a few moments, his sobs turning into sniffles. “Thank you.”
I gave a broken chuckle. “Don’t thank me for caring about you, Spencer.”
He pulled his head back to look at me, his eyes moving over my cheeks. “You cried for me.”
I nodded.
“Why?”
The question was so unexpected that I wasn’t prepared to do anything but tell the truth. “It hurts me to see you hurt.”
Spencer looked at me for a moment longer, absorbing my words before his palm came up and cupped my jaw, his thumb wiping my left-over tears away. He gentled pulled my head down until my lips pressed against his. Our first kiss was tender, his lips were slightly chapped but still unbelievably soft. Something about this kiss broke my heart more than his tears did.
My hands had come up to cup his face, my actions a mirror of his own. “I…I don’t want to take advantage of you, Spencer,” I mumbled out when we had pulled apart.
He chuckled softly. “You’re worried about that?” His mood became somber when I nodded. “Y/n…you know how I look at you. Everyone does. I don’t…I don’t want this if you don’t. I don’t want you to do this out of pity-“
“Spencer,” I gasped. “I would never…I’d never touch you out of pity. I-I want to touch you. I have for a long time.”
you. I have for a long time.”
Tears started to shine in his eyes again at my words. “Then please touch me, y/n. I don’t want to feel this pain anymore. I just…I just want to feel how I feel when you hold me. It-It doesn’t hurt when you touch me.”
Our lips came together the second time in understanding and hope. My mouth brushed against his with a promise that I was touching him because I wanted to. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth nibbling on it while his hands wove into my hair.
I moved to straddle his lap, my knees on either side of him, while my hands started working on the buttons of his shirt.
Spencer’s tongue ghosted against my lips; the groan he gave when I immediately let him inside made my core throb.
He froze when I started to push his shirt off his shoulders. “What is it?”
“It’s…I don’t want you to see…what he did to me. Please?”
I moved off of him quickly, extending my hand to pull him from the couch. I led him down the hall to my bedroom, not turning on the overhead light when we entered; the only source of light was a sliver of moonlight through the curtains.
“You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to,” I whispered. “Do you…”
His lips crushed against mine, his hands grabbing my hips to pull me against his body. Those long fingers started working my shirt up my body, breaking away momentarily to pull it over my head.
Once my pants were down my thighs, he pushed me back onto the bed. He had removed his cardigan but left his button-up shirt on. I reached behind myself to unhook my bra, feeling a sudden nervousness rise up in my chest.
His fingers were warm when they brushed over my collarbones, drifting down over my breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.
I pulled him on top of me when I leaned back on the bed, our lips meeting in a heated frenzy. He palmed my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, causing me to arch up against him.
Spencer’s lips moved down until he was mouthing my neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, all the while his hand ghosted down my body until his fingers hooked on the top of my panties.
His head lifted, his eyes searching mine. “Can I touch you?”
I nodded, my hand moving atop his, guiding him inside my panties; I couldn’t control my gasp when his fingers parted my folds to brush against me.
My hands went to his belt. “I-is this okay?”
He nodded, his mouth coming down to cover the tip of my breast, his tongue teasing my nipple to a point. Those long fingers gathered wetness from my opening to bring it up to circle my clit. Ever the scientist, Spencer paid attention to every reaction I had, he wanted to learn how to touch me.
When his middle and ring finger entered me, his palm grinding against my clit, I finally got his pants open. My hand snacked inside to palm his cock, pulling a grown from him.
“Can I push these down a bit?”
“Please,” he breathed, his lips coming over mine.
His pants were down to his mid-thighs before I wrapped my hand around him. He was bigger than I expected, not overly thick, but longer than anyone I had been with before.
“Y/n,” he whimpered against my lips, his fingers speeding up inside of me.
I gave a few pumps, my movements uncoordinated. “I want to feel you inside me, Spence. Please?”
Reid groaned, removing his fingers from my heat. “Do you have a condom?”
I turned to my bedside table, fumbling in the darkness. When I turned back to face him, I saw two of his fingers in his mouth. The same two fingers that had just been inside of me.
“Jesus,” I breathed out, finding the sight of him sucking my arousal off his fingers incredibly erotic.
He took the condom from me, his lips quirking up in a smile. "I've…I've never done that before." His eyes moved down to my still covered pussy. "I want to…but I-I don't want this time to be worse for you than it has to be," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"Hey," I muttered, my hands cupping that well-defined jaw. "This isn't going to be bad for me, Spencer. Just being with you is wonderful."
My words felt heavy in the air. Because they were true.
Spencer swallowed thickly, rolling the condom down over his length. I tugged my panties off, leaving me totally bare to him, while he still had most of his clothing on.
Even with that weird detail, this was still wonderful; being with Spencer like this was…everything.
I gripped him, lining him up at my entrance. His forehead dropped against mine when he started to push inside of me.
“Spence,” I breathed, my hands clutching at his hips.
“Are you okay?” he panted.
“Better than okay. You feel so good.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think anything could feel better than…fuck.” His slim hips pressed against mine when he was fully sheathed inside of me.
I felt my pussy flutter at his words. I’d never heard Spencer curse like that before.
We started a steady pace; his thrusts were even, and my hips rose to meet them. His arms were braced on either side of my head, his lips brushing against mine while he fucked me.
Calling it fucking seemed wrong. It was so much more.
“Y/n,” he groaned. “I’m close.”
My hand squeezed down between our bodies to rub my clit. “Hold on. I’m almost there.” I whined out.
His moan seemed to tingle across my skin when he dropped his head against my shoulder. “I want to feel you cum, baby.”
I whimpered at his words. “Spencer, harder. I need it harder.”
His hips snapped against mine as he slammed into me, I felt his teeth on the tender skin where my neck and shoulder met for a second before he bit down.
The mix of pain with pleasure sent me over the edge. My pussy clamped down on him as I found my own orgasm, pulling him over the edge with me.
My fingers ran over his back, scratching at the material of his shirt. I breathed his name out over and over while I floated back down from my high.
I felt his tongue soothe over the bite mark he had just given me as he gave a few more jerks inside of me before pulling out. He placed the sweetest kiss against my lips and when he pulled back, his eyes were shining, but not with tears this time.
--
After we cleaned up, we ordered take out and watched some sci-fi movie that was on cable. I couldn’t tell you a thing about it; I was too busy watching Spencer’s face when he told me all about it. I was enraptured by his voice, the way his hands moved.
He was so beautiful.
Before I was ready, I realized that it was already approaching midnight. “It’s late,” I said.
He nodded. “I should go.”
It was childish, but I couldn’t stop my lip from jutting out in a pout, causing him to laugh.
“What is it, beautiful?” he questioned, his voice teasing.
I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t ‘beautiful’ me, Spencer Reid,” I scolded, delighted when he laughed. “I just…I’m not ready for you to go.”
Something in Spencer’s eyes changed. He seemed almost relieved at my words. “I’m not ready to go either.”
I leaned over, placing a soft kiss in the center of his lips. “Then don’t go.”
--
Spending the night with Spence was worth how early I had to wake up the following morning to drive him by his apartment before work. I had offered to wait and give him a ride to work, but he had gotten a text from Garcia. They had gotten called to Houston for a case; Morgan was going to swing by and get him.
“I’ll call you when I can,” he promised, cupping my face when he kissed me goodbye.
The circles under his eyes this morning weren’t as dark as they had been before.
--
I could barely contain my excitement when we got the notification that the team was headed back. Part of me felt silly for being so excited. I mean, it was just one night; but it hadn’t felt like just one night.
Spencer hadn’t called me during the few days he’d been in Texas, but I hadn’t really expected him to. If anyone understood his job, it was someone who worked with his team. The BAU was such an elite unit within the FBI for a reason; they would stop at nothing to solve a case.
When the glass doors of the bullpen opened and I saw Hotch stride in, heading for his office, I couldn’t contain my smile.
“I saw that,” Anderson muttered.
I reached out and smack his arm. “You wanted me to talk to Reid.”
He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. “And judging by that mark on your neck you did more than talk.”
I scowled at him. “See if I’m on your side the next time you fuck up,” I teased, knowing he wouldn’t take my words to heart.
He just offered me a wide smile. That’s how Anderson had lasted so long here, he never really held onto anything.
“Your man doesn’t look so good,” he said suddenly.
I turned, my eyes seeking out Spencer. He was right, the dark circles were back under his eyes, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair sticking up in every direction.
He never turned his head in my direction.
--
I had wanted to give Spencer some space when he first arrived back. What if something about this case had affected him? I thought that maybe that was the reason he had been avoiding me.
My department always had more paperwork than usual when the team came back from a case, so I wasn’t able to leave until after 7. While I gathered up my things I debated about calling Reid, thinking he was already gone. When I went to take Hotch some files about 20 minutes earlier Spencer was rushing out of the bullpen with his bag clutched in his hands.
Even though I wasn’t expecting to see him, I couldn’t stop myself from looking in the glass doors when I passed by out of habit.
He was sitting at his desk. His head was tilted back, and it looked like his eyes were closed. Even in a position that most people would appear relaxed in, he still seemed incredibly tense.
I can just pop in and tell him hi, I reasoned. Let him know I’m not expecting anything, but I’m here for him.
I had given a lot of thought to my relationship with Spencer over the days he was gone. He was still healing from what happened with Tobias, it wasn’t fair of me to put unreasonable expectations on him right now. I was his friend before anything else. I could put my personal feelings aside if I needed to.
Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the doors open and headed towards his desk. The only person still at their desk was the newest member of the team, SSA Prentiss.
“Hey, y/n,” she greeted.
I had intended to return her greeting, but Spencer’s eyes snapped open and zeroed in on me. The look in his eyes made my blood freeze in my veins. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before, like my presence in this space was annoying to him.
Reid stood abruptly, pulling the strap of his messenger back up on his shoulder before he brushed past me. I had barely processed his actions before he was already leaving the bullpen.
“Spence!” I called. “Hang on!”
He just kept walking. I all but sprinted in my attempt to catch up to him. “Spencer, what the fuck,” I whispered. I knew he had seen me. Once I was closer to him, I reached out and gripped his elbow in an attempt to get his attention.
His entire body jerked as he spun around to face me. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, venom dripping from his words.
My body recoiled from him like he’d slapped me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I thought…I just…”
Just then a pair of agents walked past us and they did not bother hiding the curiosity in their eyes.
Spencer’s hand shot out and gripped my forearm, pulling me along behind him. The hold he had on my arm was almost painful, but I couldn’t focus on anything. My brain was still playing his words over and over again.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
He didn’t stop until we reached the copy room; he jerked the door open and shoved me inside.
“Spencer!” I yanked my arm out of his grip, rubbing the skin with my other hand. “What the fuck is going on?!”
“You thought what?” he snarled taking a step closer to me. “You thought that because I fucked you that means you’re my girlfriend now or something?”
My eyes widened at his words. Something cold and heavy settled in the pit of my stomach while some unnamable feeling made me throat constrict. “N-no, I didn’t think that. I just-“
I had heard Spencer’s laugh so many times before, it used to make me smile every time I heard it. People who hadn’t heard him laugh before might have thought the sound that he made when he heard my words was a laugh. But it wasn’t. It was harsh and brittle. His face was pulled into a smile that was condescending.
“Are you sure, y/l/n? Because you’ve sure been fucking acting like it all day. I feel your pathetic little looks everywhere I turn. Like I kicked your dog or something.”
I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes because…this wasn’t Spencer. This wasn’t my Spencer. My Spencer couldn’t use chopsticks and held my face when he kissed me.
“Oh, my fucking god,” he groaned in disgust. “Are you going to cry, y/n? Are you kidding me right now?”
People always say terrible things happen so fast, it’s what I read in witness statements all the time. This was a terrible thing, but time seemed to slow down for it. I saw everything in perfect detail, I heard every single syllable that came out of this mouth.
When the first tear slid down my cheek that dark, brittle laugh left his mouth again. “If you weren’t being so pathetic, I might feel bad for you.”
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, wiping at my cheeks.
“Why am I doing what, y/n?” His voice was so much louder than it was before. It didn’t make sense that he brought me to a more private place to avoid attention but now he was…yelling at me. “We fucked, do you get that? That is all! I don’t know what sad little schoolgirl fantasy you built up in your mind, but that night wasn’t special to me.”
Oh. I swallowed down my emotion, my eyes moving away from him to stare down at the floor. I wished I was the sort of person that could lash out whenever I was hurt, to hurt that person back as badly as they hurt me; but it’s just not who I was.
Like a shark that smelled blood in the water, Spencer moved closer to me. His fingers brushed over the strands of hair that hung near my shoulder. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, y/n. You’re not special. You were just a desperate girl that wanted attention. You were a pussy to use.”
I jerked back violently at his words, putting as much distance as I could between us. My entire body felt so cold, my face frozen in a mask of confusion.
Reid scoffed once more before he turned and left the room.
He never looked back at me.
I’m not sure how long I stayed in the copy room after he’d left. It may have been seconds; it could have been hours. I think I was in some sort of shock; my body just autopiloted to a place I felt safe.
I don’t remember unlocking my office door. I don’t remember collapsing in my chair and burying my head in my hands while sobs tore out of my chest.
All I remember is hearing my name a moment before I felt someone standing beside me.
“Hey,” a familiar voice called softly. “What’s wrong, y/n?”
I lifted my head and looked into the worried face of one of my best friends.
Anderson didn’t say anything further, he just pulled me up from my chair and wrapped his arms around me while I cried.
--
Pain is a universal experience, but everyone feels it differently. Everyone heals differently.
My grandmother used to say, “Everything will be different in the morning.” I was never sure if that was true or not, but today I chose to believe it was. The pain and humiliation that burned in my gut when I remembered Spencer’s words yesterday wouldn’t last forever.
I had made a mistake. I had let someone use my body only to find out that person wasn’t who I thought they were. I wasn’t the first person to make that mistake, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be the last.
Anderson had stayed with me in my office last night while I pulled myself together enough to go home. He didn’t ask what had happened, but he wasn’t stupid, I’m sure he suspected what had broken my heart.
In a perfect world, I would have fallen for someone like Grant Anderson. He was kind, funny, and a constant source of comfort when I felt my world breaking apart.
I had always tried to think of each painful moment as a lesson in some way, and lessons can teach you both good and bad things. Even my worst moments of pain, I couldn’t regret the choices that lead me to them. Every single experience shapes us into who we grow to be.
One day, when this pain in my heart wasn't so sharp, I think I might be able to look back on my night with Spencer Reid without feeling regret. He had been my friend, he was hurting. How I tried to help his suffering was a mark of who I was.
How he caused me pain was a mark of who he was.
Grant had sent me a text around 6 am, asking me if I was going to take some personal time. The BAU wasn't assigned to an active case today, but I had sent some files over to JJ that looked promising. My money was they'd be headed out to New Orleans tomorrow to catch a serial killer once she had reviewed those files.
A very large part of myself wanted to stay home; I wanted to hide from my pain and tend to my wounded heart in private. But no matter how big that part of me was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t let this pain consume me.
I wouldn’t let it.
With that thought in mind, I squared my shoulders and walked into the headquarters of the FBI.
--
The hardest moments after a tragedy are the moments after; after the first wave of pain has passed and you’re expected to go back to your normal life. The world never slowed down just because you were in agony.
JJ came by and told me she thought New Orleans looked promising and asked if I could contact the lead detective for any updates then forward those to her.
She wasn’t a profiler but even she knew something was wrong. Right before she walked out of my office she said, “Hey, are you okay?”
It's always so much worse when they ask you if you're okay because they never want an honest answer. So, on top of all the agony, you feel you have to pull off a convincing lie.
“Just tired, JJ.”
I don’t think she quite believed me, but she was kind enough not to push me any further.
A few hours later JJ was on the phone the detective heading up the investigation into the murders happening in the French Quarter. It looked like the team was heading out to New Orleans sometime tomorrow morning.
My job mostly had me working with JJ, but SSA Hotchner was the unit chief. It wasn’t uncommon that I had to get his signature of approval on something JJ needed. So, when it was time to stop by Hotch’s office, I made my way there with no outward reluctance.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spencer standing around the cluster of desks that housed his teammates. They all called out in greeting after I dropped the files off, but I had only waved over my shoulder and rushed out of the room.
Anderson had been popping in and out of my office all morning. First, he had made excuses for coming by, but much to my amusement he had dropped the façade after he came to ask me if he could borrow a pen…while he was holding a pen.
The biggest dilemma of my day was over coffee. Of course, I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and I was dragging. Caffeine was obviously the answer.
But if you knew Spencer Reid, you know he was always at the coffee machine in the BAU bullpen.
I could just go downstairs to counterterrorism, I thought idly. But if I’m already in the elevator I could just run down the block and get coffee. JJ wouldn’t mind.
I was still debating my options when I heard a tentative knock on my door.
I am not proud of my actions, I’m truly not. But there is only one person in this whole building who would knock on a door that hesitantly.
The blinds in my office were closed…but I had left the door unlocked.
On instinct, I slid out of my chair, knees hitting the floor, and hid under my desk.
What the fuck are you doing, y/n? I mentally scolded myself. This is a new low, even for you.
It turned out to be pointless anyway.
He didn’t open the door.
--
“You don’t have to tell me,” Anderson began. “But…”
“I have to tell you?” I supplied after a beat.
He flopped down in the chair on the other side of my desk. “Exactly.”
The small smile that curled up on my face was the first real smile I’d had in almost 24 hours.
How had it only been 24 hours?
“Listen,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “I know it’s about Reid. I’m not a profiler, but it’s all that makes sense.”
“How’s that?”
One of his dark brown eyebrows raised at the question. “I mean, even if we ignored everything else, the fact that he keeps walking past your office door is a dead giveaway.”
I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “Grant, I can’t right now.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t,” I whispered out. “I don’t…I need to hold it together. Just for a while longer.”
Grant reclined his back against the chair, his eyes surveying me. “Fine. But I don’t like seeing you like this.”
I don’t like feeling like this.
“Alright,” he sighed, rising to his feet. “I have to go run some sort of errand for Garcia.”
I didn’t bother asking, he’d say it was “classified.”
All the air seemed to leave the room when he opened the door.
Spencer was standing on the other side, his hand up like he had been about to knock.
Grant’s entire body jerked while Spencer’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” my friend demanded.
The most startling thing was how surprised Spencer looked at Grant’s tone; like it was some oddity that one of my closest friends would have been angry on my behalf.
“C-can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice squeaking on the last word.
I licked my lips, weighing my options. How could he hurt me any worse? I gave Grant a nod, signaling that I was okay. He moved out of the way, granting Spencer entry, but I knew my friend; he wouldn’t be far.
The man in front of me waited until the door was shut before he spoke. “Did I do something?”
My eyes had dropped down to my hands only to shoot up to his face at those words. What?
“To make you upset?” he clarified. “I…you’ve been avoiding me all day. And I know you were in here earlier when I knocked.”
His words tore at the bandages I had wrapped my heart in, ripping my wound open again. All I could do was wrap my arms around my middle in an attempt to physically hold myself together. “W-why would I want to talk to you?”
If possible, he looked even more confused than I felt. “What is going on?” He took a step towards me. “Baby-“
My reaction to hearing that word come out of his mouth was visceral. I shot to my feet, almost stumbling over my chair in an attempt to put more distance between us.
Spencer froze. “I…I don’t understand,” he pleaded. “Please, y/n, you have to talk to me. It…it hurts me to see you hurt.”
Any work I had done to repair my heart was destroyed at his words. I never should have let him inside. The look on his face twisted a knife in my stomach. He had the audacity to look distraught over my tears like he wasn’t the cause of them.
“I know I said I’d call but I was just so busy with the case…I thought…you’d understand.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth while my eyes blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears that were clouding my vision. If I couldn’t remember everything about yesterday so clearly, I would doubt that the man standing before me now was the same monster that spewed venom at me yesterday.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Reid.”
He flinched at my use of his last name. “I want you to tell me what happened.”
“Why?” I rasped out. “Do you want it to hurt more? Why are you doing this to me?”
Spencer took another step towards me, his hands were outstretched. "I don't-"
"Don't fucking touch me." I tried to fill my words with the same venom his words had yesterday when he told me the same thing, but my words came out as a broken plea.
He blinked and dropped his hands to his sides. “I deserve to know why you’re treating me like this.”
A sad sort of laugh came out of my mouth at his words.
Somehow the non-acknowledgment of my pain hurt worse than anything. “Do I mean so little to you that you forgot our conversation yesterday?”
Spencer shook his head, his hair flopping around his ears. “No, I didn’t talk to you yesterday.”
What? “Yes, you did.” My voice shook but my words still tumbled out of my mouth. “You pulled me into the copy room and told me…you told me that our night together was nothing…you told me that I was nothing.”
His brows knit together, his mouth popping open. “What are you talking about? You’re…you’re everything, y/n.”
“Reid, please…I know I’m pathetic, but I can’t take this. I can’t…” My shoulders started to shake. “Please don’t make me feel this again.”
“Pathetic?” he questioned. “What are you talking about? Is this…is this some sort of game? You don’t want to be with me…so you do this? Did Anderson tell you about my mom?”
“What?”
“My mom has schizophrenia. Is that why you’re trying to make me feel crazy?”
My brows knitted together. “I…Nobody told me about your mom. I’m not trying to make you feel crazy. And I wanted to be with you. But you told me you didn’t want to be with me.”
He still denied my words. “No, I haven’t talked to you. You’ve been avoiding me.”
“You avoided me all day yesterday. When I finally came to talk to you in the bullpen you walked past me like I wasn't there. Then I went after you." I held up my arm, pushing my sleeve up to show him the finger-shaped bruises. "You dragged me into the copy room. You told me I was pathetic. You mocked me. You told me I was just some girl…some pussy for you to use."
He kept flinching at my words like they were whips leaving lashes all over his body.
“You told me I was nothing. You told me our night together was nothing.”
“No.” He continued to shake his head. “I…I wouldn’t say that. But I especially wouldn’t say that to you. You’re wrong.”
I just shrugged. “Ask Prentiss. She saw me follow you out of the bullpen yesterday. Ask Garcia to pull the security footage. There’s probably a recording of you breaking my heart.”
“No, no, no,” he muttered over and over again.
“I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t remember, Spencer.”
He didn’t say anything else; he just turned and left my office, slamming the door behind him.
--
JJ was suspicious when I called her from my office phone instead of just walking over to see her, but she didn’t ask any questions about the mysterious illness I told her had hit me. She just told me that she hoped I felt better and to take all the time I needed.
I knew that the team was set to fly out after JJ presented the case at 10 am in the morning, meaning that going back to work tomorrow wouldn’t be too hard. No matter how badly I hurt now, I couldn’t lay down and cry about it.
Part of me was afraid if I laid down, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.
With that in mind, I would give myself today to feel the full force of my heartbreak. I would cry when I wanted to, I’d watch sad movies and make myself cry more, I’d eat junk food that ultimately only made me feel worse. I would feel this pain for one day.
I told myself Spencer Reid didn’t deserve more of my tears than that. I told myself that over and over again until I almost believed it.
Anderson had been texting me all day to check-in, I had even gotten a nice call from Penelope Garcia asking me if I needed anything.
The most unexpected call came at 8 pm that night from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Y/n?” the voice asked. “This is Prentiss.”
Oh. “Oh. Hi, Emily.”
“Listen, I called for two reasons. The first is that I wanted to check in on you, and the second is…the second is a bit more personal.”
Oh. I cleared my throat. “I’m as good as I can be, Emily.”
She sighed. "I figured. Which brings me to my second question. Did something happen between you and Reid?" After a few moments of my silence, Prentiss hurried on. "You don't have to tell me. It's just that…Reid came up to me this afternoon and demanded to know if I had seen you come into the bullpen to talk to him yesterday."
“What did you say?”
“Um, I told him yes. Because I did. What is going on?”
My fingers picked at the edges of the blanket in my lap. “I don’t know. Anderson thinks something is up with him.”
“We all think something is up with him.”
Her confirmation didn’t make me feel any better.
--
I arrived to work the following morning at 9 am, a full thirty minutes later than usual. JJ had stopped by my office to see how I was doing, followed by a visit from Prentiss. Garcia had teetered into the room about 15 minutes after Emily left, giving me a frosted cookie that was bigger than my hand.
“Cookies help,” she had said confidently.
I hoped she was right.
Anderson popped in last. "Hey, ooh." He skidded to a stop. "You look terrible."
I shot him a withering look. “Thank you so much, Grant.”
“You know what I mean.”
“…That I look terrible?”
He nodded, his lips twitching at the corners. “Anyway, Hotch needs the mileage forms for the SUVs. I can run it over to him.”
My teasing tone vanished. “I’ve got it, Grant.”
I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I had to believe it was. Or at the very least it would be soon.
It took every ounce of will power I had not to let my eyes wander over to his desk when I entered the bullpen. I could almost feel him looking at me. It went against every natural instinct I had to ignore him…but what else could I do?
Hotch wasn’t in his office when I knocked but the door was unlocked. He never minded if we walked in when he was out if we just had something to drop off. I tried to find an open space on his desk to set the forms when I heard the door squeak on its hinges behind me.
I spun around, my startled eyes connecting with a pair of sharp brown eyes.
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Agent Gideon. I didn’t see you there.”
He gave me a small smile, but that sharp look didn’t leave his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose you would have,” he said simply. “It’s hard to notice anyone else when you’re trying so hard to not notice someone.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Gideon just nodded. “I’m going to tell you something. Now, you can take these words to heart, and I hope you do, or you can take them as the ramblings of…a sentimental old man.”
I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Okay.”
"A lot of people think that the most important thing you can have in a relationship is love," he began, his eyes never wavering from mine. "In my not so humble opinion, they are incorrect. You see, y/l/n, love fades. Love isn't a thing that can stay in one form forever. It's always changing… its fluid."
“Sir, I don’t-“
“You know what the most important thing is?” he asked as if I hadn’t spoken. “Mercy.”
I just blinked at him. “I…I don’t think I understand.”
He just smiled at me, his hands moving into the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe not yet, but I think you will.” Gideon’s gaze broke from mine, looking through the windows of Hotch’s office to settle on Reid. His head was bent over his desk while his fingers ran over the pages in front of him. “He’ll need mercy, y/n. More than anything else.”
Agent Gideon turned back to look at me. “He’ll need it from all of us, but I don’t think he’ll need it from anyone more than you.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. I truly didn’t understand what he was talking about.
With one final smile, he turned and left the office, leaving me with my thoughts.
--
Agent Gideon’s words were still swirling through my mind the following afternoon when I got another odd call from Agent Prentiss.
“Hey, y/l/n,” she began, her tone annoyed. “Listen, have you heard from Reid?”
My entire body stilled. “No, I haven’t. Why?”
“He was supposed to meet us at the plane. Morgan and I are waiting for him but he isn’t answering his cell.”
I hated the worry that wormed its way through my heart at her words. “I’m sorry, Em. I haven’t talked to him.”
She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It was a long shot. Thanks, y/n.”
For several minutes after she hung up, I just stared at my phone. Don’t, I told myself firmly. He’s not your problem.
Spencer Reid wasn't my problem…but I couldn't just stop caring about him overnight. That's not the sort of person I was.
I kept telling myself I was calling to check on him for me, because I was the sort of person who checked on their friends.
It didn’t make it easier when he didn’t answer my calls either.
--
The need to silence the shrill ringing of my phone pulled me from my sleep the following night. I still hadn't heard from Spencer, but Prentiss had called me this morning to tell me Reid had gone to see one of his friends and "didn't have a signal." Her tone indicated she thought he was full of shit.
My eyes cracked open to look at the caller ID. When I read the name of the person calling me, my fingers frantically pushed “accept.”
“Spencer?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything.”
I sat up in my bed, my eyes looking at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s after 3 am. Did something happen with the case?”
He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. The unsub is a woman. We tried to catch her tonight…but we can try again tomorrow.”
“You’ll get her.”
The only sound I heard was his uneven breathing. “That’s not why I called.”
My tongue ran over my lips while I pulled the blankets further up my chest like they would be able to protect me in some way. "Why did you call?"
“Do you think people deserve forgiveness?”
“I…I think it depends.”
“On what?” he asked desperately.
“On what they did…on if they’re sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Did you do something, Spencer?”
“I made a mistake.”
Somehow, I knew he wasn’t just talking about what had happened between us. He sounded just like I remembered him sounding when I wrapped my arms around him that night he came to my house.
His voice broke when he spoke again. “I’m so lost, y/n,” he sobbed. “I’m so lost and I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”
I fought to control my own emotions when he spoke. No matter what happened my heart still ached at the pain in his voice. “You might be lost, Spencer. But you’re not alone. Your team…your family found you. They brought you home. They’re still here for you. They’ll bring you home again.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us lost in our own dark sea of pain.
“I don’t deserve to ask you to forgive me,” he said at last. “So, I won’t ask. I don’t even…I don’t even remember what I said.”
I think my subconscious mind had been connecting these pieces together for a while because in the darkness of my bedroom at almost 4 am, things finally began to take shape. The darkness that hung over Spencer was finally starting to take form.
“Just focus on the case, Spencer. We can talk when you get home.”
“Wait,” he called out. “Don’t go. Not yet.”
I don’t think I ever will.
--
The clock on my wall said it was just after 7 pm the following night when there was a knock on my door. Frowning, I made my way across the room, pressing my eye to the peephole, slightly surprised at who I saw.
I had figured he would come for me at some point, but I hadn’t expected it to be the very moment he got back into town.
…but it isn’t the very moment, I reminded myself. JJ had texted saying their plane was landing at 5 pm this afternoon.
He didn’t knock again but he didn’t move away from the door either. I think he knew I was there, just out of his reach, debating my options.
Opening yourself up to something that might hurt you is one of the most foolish and brave things a person can do. When someone you cared about broke your trust, how could you put your heart back into those very same hands?
I remembered Gideon’s words from that afternoon before they had left for New Orleans.
Over the past several days I had realized that that day in the copy room it wasn’t actually my Spencer that said those things. Something dark and painful had clawed its way into him and was trying to hollow him out.
That dark thing didn’t deserve my mercy…but I think Spencer did.
With a deep breath, I started to unlock my front door, grateful he couldn’t see that my hands were shaking. He looked tired but a different sort of tired than I was used to seeing. Weariness had crawled underneath his skin and was draining him slowly, but he didn’t look as defeated as he did the last time I saw him.
No matter how many times I had thought about this moment, I still wasn’t sure what to say
“I came…I came to explain.” He said at last.
I was still frozen in place watching him shift uncomfortably. I knew he wanted me to invite him in…but, how could I? Trusting him enough to talk to him was one thing but how could I allow him into the only place I felt safe?
Gideon’s words played through my mind again. Mercy.
Taking a step back from the door, I waved him inside. I moved to sit on the couch, but Spencer just stood in front of me.
"When Tobias abducted me…" he trailed off, balling his hands into fists. "He had dissociative identity disorder. It's much more rare than people think. Whenever it's been observed under clinical settings, the most that has been observed is 2. Tobias had three.
The first was him, the next was his father, and the last was the Archangel, Raphael. Tobias’s father abused him horribly… Charles broke something inside of him, he fractured him. The only way he could survive was to start abusing drugs. He took them intravenously.”
Gideon's words had started to weave the pieces together, but it was actually Spencer's words from our night together that cemented everything in place. “I don’t want you to see what he did to me.”
"He thought he was being kind when he injected me." Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his tongue against his upper lip. "You hear about addiction; I could tell you the statistics on people who suffer from opioid addiction. But I never in a million years thought it would be me.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell from my face and hit the back of my hand.
“I’m not the person who gets addicted to things. I’m not the stereotypical picture of an addict…but that’s what I am, y/n. I’m an addict.” He reached into his front pocket, pulling out a small coin. “This is a newcomer’s chip…from narcotics anonymous. You get it at your very first meeting. I got this an hour ago.”
“Spencer,” I rasped out. “I’m so sorry.”
He came to sit beside me on the couch then, his hand covering one of mine. "I thought I could handle it. I convinced myself it wasn't that bad, but it was. What I did to you was reprehensible, y/n. And I am so sorry." Spencer's voice broke, his shoulders shaking with repressed emotion. "I will be sorry about that day for the rest of my life. I don't deserve any sort of second chance."
I turned completely towards him, throwing my arms around him. “Yes, you do, Spencer,” I whispered into his hair. “You do.”
This night felt so much different than the first night I held him like this while he cried. I didn't know the cause of his pain that night, but it broke my heart nevertheless; now that I knew the pain inside this beautiful man…I think the pain I had been feeling was tearing at my soul.
Addiction doesn’t discriminate. It’s a disease that will sink its hooks into anyone and refuse to let go. Spencer had made a mistake; his actions had gutted me. But…was it really him? Or was it the monster that has hold of him? It was in these thoughts that I finally began to understand the weight of Agent Gideon's words. "He’ll need mercy from everyone…but from no one more than you.”
I wasn’t in love with Spencer…at least not yet, but I did love him. In those moments when loving someone felt impossible mercy was the most important thing you could offer. I had to show him my mercy while he moved through this…because I knew love would come later.
“I’m here for you, Spencer. I want to help you in any way I can.”
He pulled back, his wide brown eyes meeting mine. “I can’t ask you to battle my addiction for me, y/n. I wouldn’t even if I could.” His voice was earnest when he spoke, his hands coming up to cup my face with a touch that seemed so familiar. “I promise that I’m going to try. I’m going to mess up at some point, some moments will be harder than others. I can’t…I can’t be perfect at this. But I promise I will never stop trying.”
“You don’t have to be perfect, Spencer. You’re not worthy because you’re perfect. You’re worthy because you’re…you.”
His eyes were soft when they ran over my face, his hands coming up to cup my jaw again. “I can leave, if you want…I know you’ll need time…I can’t expect-“
I leaned forward to brush my lips against his. “Don’t go,” I whispered. “Just be with me. Be here with me, Spence.”
I'm not sure who moved first. It was like all the pain in my body gave way to such a burning need that it almost consumed me. Our lips barely broke apart when I pulled him from the couch, guiding him to my bedroom; our actions were so similar to what they had been on that first night that felt like a lifetime ago.
But everything was different.
My bedroom was lit only by the dusky orange glow from the setting sun. I didn’t get to question Spencer about anything. His hands moved urgently against my body, ridding me of my shirt and bra. I unbuttoned his shirt, careful not to push it off of his shoulders. My nails scored his chest while his mouth moved down to kiss the column of my throat.
Spencer’s knee was wedged between my thighs when his mouth closed over my nipple. My hands tried to move down to undo his pants but when his teeth tugged at the tip of my breast all I could do was whimper.
“Spencer. Please.”
His eyes opened and lifted to meet mine. He looked nervous for a moment before he started to kiss down my body. I lifted my hips to help him remove my pants. When his fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties, I realized he had never seen me in the light before.
I felt his index finger trace down my slit, spreading me open under his gaze. He swallowed thickly when one of his fingers entered me, pulling a moan from my throat.
“Can I?”
“Yes. Yes.” I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but I would have given him anything in that moment.
I wasn’t ready when I felt his tongue tentatively lick my pussy. My hips bucked off the bed causing him to chuckle.
“Hold still,” he whispered as he spread me wider. He inserted another finger into my heat while his tongue fluttered around my clit.
“I’m trying,” I whined. “Fuck. I thought you said you hadn’t done this before.”
Spencer lifted his head to press a kiss to my inner thigh. “I haven’t,” he replied, his voice needlessly smug. Before I could comment his lips closed around my clit again.
My fingers were tangled in his soft brown hair while my hips rocked against his mouth. “Spencer, I’m close. I want-fuck! I want to cum when you’re inside me.”
He rose up on his knees, his hands moving to his belt. He had looked reluctant to leave his current position, but I needed him now. "You can eat my pussy to your heart's content later."
Spencer’s hand froze, his eyes snapping up to meet mine.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. You just…you said later.” The confusion must have been plain on my face because he clarified, “I can have you later too.”
My arousal was still pulsing in my body but now something else was too. I knew he didn’t mean sex when he said he could have me; Spencer meant he could have me, he could be with me.
With that thought, I urged him up my body so I could press my lips to his again. We were still kissing when I felt the blunt tip of his cock brush against me before he slowly pushed inside of me.
“You…I didn’t know something could feel like this,” he said when his hips settled against mine,
I didn’t either.
I think he must have felt the same frantic need I did. His thrusts were forceful as he drove into me. I was already so close that I could feel myself approaching my peak.
“Spence,” I whimpered out.
“I know, I feel you. You’re right there.” He reached between our bodies and rubbed his thumb across my clit.
My back arched as my orgasm washed over me, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. After a few more thrusts, I felt Spencer find his release too. He whispered my name against my hair while he slowly came down, pressing soft kisses all over any part of my skin he could reach.
--
The frantic mood from before had lifted, but something still felt urgent. Spencer had gotten up a few moments ago to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
He hadn’t removed his clothes again, and something about the energy in the room made me put my clothes back on too.
I was sitting at the end of my bed when he came out of the bathroom a few moments later. He looked resigned and…almost defeated.
“Spence,” I started but he just shook his head.
He came to stand in front of me before he spoke. “I have to…I can’t hide from you.”
I stood up before he could move. “You’re not hiding anything, Spencer. Not anymore.”
He pressed his lips against mine again. I think he understood the gravity of my words and what revealing his body meant. He knew I’d see him; I’d see all of him. But whenever I looked into his eyes when he started to open his shirt, I felt like I saw more of him than I ever had.
Everything he felt was floating through his amber-colored eyes. His hands shook and a few tears leaked out of his eyes when he pulled his shirt from his body.
The bend of his left elbow was covered in bruises in all different phases of healing. It looked like one of his veins might even have blown.
When I brought my eyes back up to his, I found them shut tight.
“Hey,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his middle, careful of his arm. “Spencer, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” he breathed out.
I only held him tighter. “It will be. One day it will be.” I let out a shaky breath of my own before I spoke again. “You know I’m going to fall in love with you one day, right?”
His body jerked at my words, a tiny sob leaving his mouth.
“It’s true, Spencer. You have to know that. You’re worthy of love. You’re worthy of my love.”
He pulled back from me, his hands cradling my face while his eyes searched mine. “I’m not. I’m not worthy…but I’m going to try to be.”
The slashes and cracks in my heart didn’t feel so painful when I kissed him again. It wasn’t my job to fix him. It wasn’t his job to fix me.
But I could show him mercy while he fought his battle. He deserved that.
Everyone deserves that.
--
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#Spencer Reid#Spencer Reid Angst#Spencer Reid x you#Spencer Reid x reader#Spencer Reid x y.n#Dr. Spencer Reid#Dr. Spencer Reid Angst#Dr. Spencer Reid Fluff#Dr. Spencer Reid Smut#Spencer Reid fluff#Spencer Reid Smut#Criminal minds imagine#Spencer Reid imagine#Criminal minds angst#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds smut#Spencer Reid fan fiction#criminal minds fan fiction
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Can you do a scenario where reader (male pronouns) kind of outs himself as bi and then hides for a while since it was an accident and he wasn't actually ready and after some time bakugo finds him and they end up awkwardly confessing to each other? Bonus points if you can do ComfortingTM class 1A (also I just really want bi representation 🥺)
BRO BRO ur reblogs and replies always make me BAM BAM
(Also y’all ik that gif is huge but it had denki AND baku in it and i felt compelled to use it bc kamis kinda important in the story NSNDNEKWK)
——————
Bakugou x reader - How to Out Your Classmate
⚠️warnings - being outed by your classmate (denki) (I’m sorry denki stans), bakugou kinda bulling kami at the end kdnfjekfj
Pronouns - male, he/him
——————
It was something he didn’t mean to say.
Rather, it just slipped out.
————
“Ne, (L/n)-kun, don’t you think Yao-momos hair is kinda sexy today? Her hair down plus that hair clip is FIRE dude!”
Kaminari slung a arm around (Y/n’s) shoulder, while Mineta smugly grinned from his seat. He wiped away a line of drool dripping from his mouth.
“Oh oh oh, her hair falls over her boobs so perfectly! I just wanna touch them at least once, ehuheuheu...”
Sero sighed from his seat. “Dude. You really are a scumbag. Stop that.”
Mineta, not missing a beat, turned to Sero with a shit-eating grin. “Oh? Why’s that? Are you gay or something?”
(Y/n) visibly stiffened from under Kaminari’s grasp. Kaminari however, didn’t notice and played along into Mineta’s joke.
“Yeah dude, kinda sus. Don’t go perving on me in the locker rooms now, haha!”
Sero sighed once more, this time with a playful smile. “Shut up, your probably more sus than I am-“
He was cut off when (Y/n) started wriggling out from under Kaminari’s arm. The three looked at (Y/n) quizzically, while (Y/n) awkwardly coughed. “I’m...leaving.”
“Why? What happened?” Kaminari leaned on the back of Seros desk.
“Well-you guys are...loud and I’m going to my desk.” Even the dumbest person could tell how tense (Y/n) was. Though, Kaminari was as dumb as he was oblivious. He scoffed, but it sounded more like a chuckle.
“What? I don’t get it, man. We were teasing Sero, not you.” Kaminari’s teasing tone felt like heaters blasting full power through (Y/n’s) body. It was strange. You always felt kind of hot when you get a little flustered. “So what part of what we said bothered you?”
“N-nothing!” (Y/n) cursed at the way he raised his voice, cursing even more at his small stutter.
“Then why are you panties in such a twist? I’m just making fun of Sero bein’ sus.”
“W-well how fun! Move, class is starting.” Truth be told, class didn’t start until 10 minutes later. When (Y/n) tried to subtly push past Kaminari, he grabbed him by the arms and blocked his way out. “No way I’m moving! You’re mad for some reason, and I just wanna know why!”
“So what exactly did we do?”
Sero rested his chin on his palm. “Yeah if you can tell us we can stop doing it, (L/n)-kun. I gotta agree with Kami on this one.”
An irk mark appeared as (Y/n’s) face flushed a darker shade of pink. Not in the good way though. He struggled helplessly in Kaminari’s stronghold, before tching and looking away.
“There’s nothing more to say-! You’re just-starting to get on my nerves and I wanna leave-!”
“Really? That’s it?” Kaminari looked at (Y/n) skeptically, before his face lit up. “Oh wait!”
“You started getting all pissy when we were talking about Yaoyorozu...and you also got mad the other day when she was talking about Bakugou...”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“..So you like Yao-“
“I don’t fucking like Yaoyorozu!”
Now Kaminari was starting to get antsy. “Then what! Why are you mad! Is it because Mineta and I were ‘perving’?!”
“I’m not fuckin’ mad about you drooling over Yao-momos boobs! I’m not mad at all!”
Students started to gather once Kaminari and (Y/n) started to raise their voices higher and higher. Kaminari’s grip on (Y/n) was long gone, though (Y/n) was too upset to notice.
“If you weren’t mad about that, you were obviously mad about that time Yao-Momo talking about how Bakugou was attractive. So what? Do you like Bakugou or something? Are you gay?”
(Y/n) paled and grit his teeth. He was full on yelling now. “Stop saying that, damnit! I don’t like boys! Y-you know that!”
Kaminari gasped comically. “Oh my god! You totally avoided my question, dude!”
“What?!”
“Yeah! Now I get it! That’s what’s bothering you so much! It all makes sense!”
Kaminari’s mad expression morphed into one that you make when you solve a difficult question. It felt like all the blood in (y/n’s) face was drained, yet all the blood rushing to his cheeks burned like fire. Sero stood up from his chair and placed a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. “Dude, uh-I think that’s enou-“
“Your confused because you’re straight but now you’ve started to like a guy, right?! Bakugou, right?!”
Seros warning went over Kaminari’s head completely. (Y/n) dug his nails into his palm while Kaminari pried into (Y/n’s) mind with his eyes.
“I’m not confused! I’m pissed. Very, very pissed at you!”
The blond haired boy slammed his arms down on Seros table and leaned in uncomfortably close. (Y/n) wanted to step back, but if he did, he’d run straight into Sero.
“Ok. If you answer this compleeeetely honestly, I’ll let you go. Swear! And we’ll never talk about this again! Just say yes or no! Nothing else!”
Sero glanced around the room. Everyone was staring, some had their hands over their mouths, and some were whispering and asking what was going on. Sero nervously tugged on the fabric of (Y/n’s) blazer. “U-um...yo... (y/n)...Kamin-“
“Do you like Bakugou?”
“I-“
“And don’t say you don’t like boys or you’re not gay, we ‘know’ that!”
“I’m-“
“Just say yes or no!”
“N-“
“Are you ga-“
“I’M BI!” (Y/n’s) sudden outburst silenced the classroom. It was like a blow from a king to shut up the commoners. “I’M BI, SO SHUT UP! ARE YOU HAPPY?! I’M NOT GAY AND I DON’T LIKE BAKUGOU! I DONT! I-I DONT. I don’t. I...”
Stagnant air flooded the 1-A classroom. Almost immediately, (Y/n) slapped both his hands over his mouth, eyes blown wide. Kaminari awkwardly chuckled. “Uh...”
(Y/n) took a tentative step back, bumping straight into Sero. He reflexively grabbed onto (y/n’s) forearms, stabling him.
“Are you oka-“
“Don’t touch me!” (Y/n) pushed off of Seros body and stumbled over a desk. He crashed onto the ground and fumbled onto his bottom. Students upon students neared towards him, all their face and voice blending together into one big, muddy pile. Their voices eventually turned into ringing, louder and louder until-
“SHUT UP!” (Y/n) rose to his wobbly legs, half running and half crawling towards the door as fast as he could. He could hear the protestant shouts of his classmates, or even the sleepily confused expression of his teacher as as flew by him in the hallway.
He guessed he was skipping class that day.
————
40 missed calls from: Mina-San domoo-!!
125 unopened texts from: Mina-San domoo-!!
23 missed calls from: Kamiii ⚡️
45 unopened texts from: Kamiii ⚡️
12 unopened texts from: Iida Tenya.
5 unopened texts from: ura-chaaaan 💖
1 unopened text from: Bakugou
(Y/n) turned off his phone. He knew if he kept it on, Mina would keep spamming his phone with text messages.
It’s been about a few days since his whole freak out happened. He’d bolt out of class the second it was dismissed, and he kept himself either locked in his room, or out of the dorms as much as humanly possible. He wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.
His phone buzzed again. He sighed, half expecting it to be another spam text from Mina. What he didn’t expect, was to see Bakugous contact photo on his screen, with the big green words “Incoming call-Bakugou” blaring at him so intimidatingly.
Something made him want to answer.
He pressed the phone to his ear.
“Oi.”
Bakugous gruff voice sent chills down the boys spine. His voice seemed to lock itself inside his throat, refusing to come out his mouth.
“Say something, dumbass.” Oh boy, was he trying. Everytime he opened his mouth, his throat closed up and refused to open again. Bakugou sighed harshly through the speaker.
“Stop being stupid and avoiding us-“ (Y/n) absentmindedly pressed the red “end” button. If Kaminari or Kirishima or whatever convinced Bakugou, to convince HIM to stop avoiding them, just because he ‘liked’ him, (and he totally did), he’d rather not hear it.
(Y/n) went to crumple up a piece of paper he was scribbling on, and drop it into the trash can, when it bounced on top and rolled away pathetically near his feet. His trash can was overflowing. Well, it was expected, since he was deliberately missing out on trash days just so he didn’t have to leave his dorm. (Y/n) swiped up the piece of paper, along with the trash bag lining the bin.
A few seconds outside couldn’t hurt. No one will see him. He’ll just...throw the bag in the dumpster, and slink back in before anyone knows he’s there.
————
(Y/n) hauled the trash bag into the dumpster, throwing it from out over his shoulder. He dusted off his hands and wiped forming sweat off his brow. The trash was out, no one saw him, all he had to do was slip back in his room before anyone sees him.
He huffed and turned around, immediately being smacked by a spiky tuft of blond hair. All the color drained from (Y/n’s) face. Bakugou turned his head and spat onto the dirt, clicking his tongue in the process.
“Figured you’d be here.”
”...there’s no way you could’ve-“
“It takes about a couple days for a small trash can to fill up. And knowing you, shit-for-brains, would come and take it out when no one was really watching. 5 pm, when everyone’s getting ready for dinner. You really do have shit-for-brains, shittyass.”
Bakugou may seem like a meathead, but the times he showed he was observant and intelligent made his heart tie knots around itself. (Y/n) bit back a stutter and a blush.
“W...ell, how-how’d you know I was going to take it out today? A-and to this dumpster, instead of the one on the other side of the dorms?”
Bakugou scoffed loudly, stalking closer to him. (Y/n) gulped. “This ones closer to your dorm room, even I know that, loser.”
Bakugous voice dipped, suddenly becoming uncharacteristically quiet. “...and I’ve been coming here everyday at 5 pm...shittyass...”
Bakugou was really dedicated to his scheme, huh. Just so he could see him? (Y/n)? He should be the LAST person Bakugou would want to see. Especially with what Kaminari was blabbering about. Still...It made (Y/n) feel a bit special.
But knowing Bakugou, he was just probably here to tell him how disgusting he was. Maybe he’ll start calling him ‘dick-for-brains’ instead of ‘shit for brains’. Or just plain on ‘fag’.
“Oi-stop spacing out and fucking listen to me! And don’t you dare run away until you hear me the fuck out!”
Bakugous palms flashed white, generating small blasts and he pointed an agitated finger at (Y/n). He stepped back reflexively.
“Um...well...what did you want then?” (Y/n) awkwardly fumbled with his hands behind his back, trying to keep still as much as he could. He wanted to disappear.
“Is it true?”
(Y/n) looked up. Bakugou was staring dead on, with his hands shoved stiffly in his pockets and sporting the faintest blush on his face. It was so unnoticeable, you could blink and miss it. That, and the trademark scowl, you could hardly tell if his face was red because of anger or something else.
“What is?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, fuckass! Do you like me or not?!”
(Y/n) opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Bakugou grunted and stepped closer. “Answer me!”
“S-so what if I do-?! You gonna call me a fag?!” (Y/n) was sweating bullets. He hoped Bakugou wouldn’t see how utterly nervous he was. Fake it til you make it. Though, he doesn’t know what he’d do once Bakugou goes flames blazin’ on his ass. He could all ready see his reaction-
Bakugou smirked. “Knew it.”
Knew it? (Y/n’s) nerves temporarily fizzled down, a wave of confusion washing over him. “...What?”
“God, do you need me to spell everything out for you? It was obvious. To me at least. Everyone was probably too fuckin’ dumb to notice.”
(Y/n) fell silent. He could speak if he wanted to, his throat wasn’t closing up, but he chose to keep silent. It’s not like he knew what to say, anyways. He was stunned into submission.
“-so I was right. Now, go out with me, Bitch.”
“Thanks. But I’ll pass.”
“I-“ Bakugou made a sputtering noise. (Y/n) wasn’t sure if he was caught off guard or sputtered out of sheer anger. “What?! Why the fuck not?!”
“Dude, how do I know you aren’t like, I dunno, being bribed by Kaminari or something to try and ‘prove that I’m bi’? Or that your just mocking me?”
“Idiot! Why the fuck would you think I’d listen to a dumbass like dunce face?! I fucking like you, you like me, I don’t see the problem here!”
(Y/n) knew he wasn’t lying. Bakugou was many things, a shithead, a piece of angry trash, but he wasn’t a liar. Still, he sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Dude, as much as I’d love to go out with you, there’s too much cons to it. I mean-first off, I don’t want people calling you a fag or anything because you’re with me...second, I’m...scared of how the class’ll take it, especially for someone like you-“
“Eh?! What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you fucki-“
(Y/n) pushed past him, accidentally brushing his shoulder in the process.
“...And third, even if I’m too scared how the class would react, I’m too prideful to let Kaminari ‘predictions’ win.”
He was gone before Bakugou could turn around.
————
(Y/n) was late to class on purpose that day.
He didn’t want to risk it with Bakugou, Kaminari, anyone. He’s more afraid of the class than he is of getting scolded by Aizawa. And that was saying something.
So when he walked in the door, Bakugou gripping Kaminari’s tie and releasing small blasts in the air with his wound up hand, he didn’t know if he should replace ‘Getting Scolded By Aizawa’ with ‘Getting Murdered By Bakugou’ in his worries for today.
“Fucking idiot!” Bakugou growled, spit flying onto Kaminari’s face as he set off another blast. It was small enough not to cause damage to any desks or chairs around them, but it was close enough to Kaminari’s face to make him yelp. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Ow!” Kaminari half yelled-half whimpered. Bakugou’s hands heated up, glowing orange from under Kaminari’s chin. “Hey-HEY! Chill-!W-what did I even do?! OW!”
Bakugou slammed him against his desk by his blazer. “It’s your fuckin fault that shit-for-brains won’t go out with me!”
Another blast. This time, fired in the air but much bigger than before. Kaminari flinched. “Ah! S-shit-for...(L/n)?! How is it my fault?!”
“It’s your fault because you made him all scared and shit to go out with me! With your stupid prying ass! Now he won’t go out with me until I get you to apologize! So apologize so I can have a fuckin boyfriend! Go die!”
(Y/n) looked around the room. No one was trying to stop Bakugou from literally roasting Kaminari alive. Not even Iida. Everyone stood there, eyes locked on Kaminari or recording them while stifling snickers. (Y/n) walked up to Mina, who was recording and whispering commentary near the speaker.
“Uh...what’s happening? Why’s no one stopping Bakugou?”
Mine looked up. “Well-he kinda deserved it. I mean, he did act like a dick to you a few days ago. Bakugou’s just givin’ him a piece of his mind.” She fixed her angle on her phone, hunching down slightly in the process. “Also, glad to see you talking to us again, (L/n)~”
(Y/n) glances around the room once more. Everyone seemed to silently agree. Though, Iida looked like he was going to explode in his seat. Poor Iida. Poor Kaminari.
(Y/n) was brought out of his mind when Mina slowly panned her phone over to him. He was about to question her, when Kaminari was thrown carelessly at his feet. Bakugou kicked at Kaminari’s hunched figure, stepping on his back with his hands clenched in his pockets.
“Say it.”
Kaminari made a wheezing noise.
“FUCKIN’ SAY IT!”
“I-I’m sorry for outing you in-in front of our classmates...”
Bakugou dug his foot into Kaminari’s back. “LOUDER!”
“I’M SORRY-OW! FOR O-OUTING YOU IN FRONT OF OUR CLASSMATES-!”
Bakugou gave Kaminari a look saying to ‘keep going.’ Kaminari shot back with a face that said ‘dude. What you want me to say is fucking stupid.’
Bakugou snarled and fired another mini explosion into the air. Kaminari squeaked and looked up at (y/n), who had the most confused look on his face. Kaminari sighed.
“And...totally I don’t think that you and Bakugou are gonna get together...totally unexpected...”
Kaminari, even if he was about to be best to a pulp, couldn’t help the snicker from leaving his mouth. Bakugou, you dumb fuck. He was probably thinking back to the time (Y/n) said ‘I’m too prideful to let Kaminari ‘predictions’ win’. Even so, that was just dumb. Even for Bakugou.
Bakugou huffed contently, while Kaminari shakily pulled himself up. Bakugou thunked him on the head again. “There. Now you have no fuckin’ reason not to be my boyfriend. If you don’t I’ll kill you.”
(Y/n) hummed out of hesitation. “Ehhhh...but...”
“We allowed Bakugou to rough up Kaminari, which is a CLEAR violation of the rules, the least you could do is say yes, (y/n)-kun! Though I do believe Bakugou should be punished for his harsh actions.”
Iida jutted out from his seat, swinging his arm in the air. Everyone stayed silent for a second, until Tsuyu stepped forward. “I agree with Iida-Chan, kero. You two would look nice together.”
One by one, the class started saying how ‘cute’ they’d be together or that they didn’t care that (y/n) was Bi, much. It was different from when the class was clamoring around him, instead of all their voice blending together in one big ring, he could hear every single persons song of praise. He supposed it was alright. It wouldn’t hurt as much as he think it would.
(Y/n) sucked in a breath, and turned his head to Bakugou. He looked at (Y/n) almost expectantly.
“...fine....you win...you better take care of me, Bakugou.”
He turned his head and scoffed. “Idiot. I was gonna do that regardless.”
Mina started clapping and wolf whistling. Eventually, everyone started to clap and ‘aww’ed, before quickly rushing to their seats once they heard groggy footsteps approach the door.
A man with shaggy hair walked in. The class sat silent, staring at Aizawa. He sniffed and trailed his eyes around the room.
Setting his sleeping bag behind his podium, he pursed his lips. “Where is Kaminari?”
“W-whey...”
Kaminari was laying on the floor next to (y/n’s) seat, smiling dumbly with burn marks. He was pumping his fists with his thumbs sticking out. Everyone broke into a cold sweat.
“Would anyone like to tell me why Kaminari is out of his seat?”
Oh fuck.
Bakugou got 3 days house arrest.
——————
Jdjdjejejc this was real fun to write HAHAHAHA I’m lowkey proud of it
#bnha x male reader#bnha x reader#mha x male reader#mha x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x male reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou imagine#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katuski x reader#class 1 a x reader#x male reader#boku no hero academia#my hero academia
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